Alphabet Klaine
by Zavocado
Summary: A series of drabbles for each letter of the alphabet! Featuring Klaine, crossovers, fluff, smut, angst, romance, a bit of everything you can imagine! Klaine AUs.
1. Animagi

A/N: And so beginnings an Alphabet Klaine series. I just sort of started this for fun over my winter break and have been posting it on tumblr in a random order. Basically, there's a little short story for every letter, all different and not interconnected in any way. There's fluffy ones, smutty ones, angsty ones, ones with mixtures and dragons and romance and crossovers and just about anything you can think up.

I'll be posting one a day through the end of the months, but there are some with **WARNINGS and TRIGGERS**. Each day will be something new and different from the last, some might not be your thing and others will. Just make sure to read the notes at the start to get a sense of it.

We start with **Animagi(Animagus) **today. This is a Harry Potter/Klaine crossover of sorts. No triggers or warnings for this one, though I did post a picture to go with it on tumblr.

Anyway, enjoy today's! Tomorrow will be B for Bisexual!

**Animagi**

"I'll go first," Kurt said as they moved the last desk against the wall. "Do you think we should find a bigger room? Just in case?"

"Unless one of us turns into a dinosaur, I think my classroom will be big enough," Blaine remarked. "I wish you'd let me use magic to move this stuff."

"My dad can't," Kurt said sternly. "Magic is a privilege you shouldn't use for petty things that can be–"

"Done by hand," Blaine finished. He smiled and kissed his husband on the cheek. "I know, I know. And I love your Squib dad. He runs the best Quidditch shop in England."

"Okay, I'll just–"

"Are you sure you want to go first?"

"Blaine Anderson, I am the head Transfiguration professor at the greatest Wizarding school in the United Kingdom," Kurt said, tilting his chin up as he stepped into the middle of the room. "If either of us are going to complete our Animagus transformation first, it's going to be me."

"All right, all right, Professor," Blaine plopped down on a desk and waved his hand towards Kurt. "Show me what you've got."

Kurt took his place in the center in the room, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. They'd been preparing and learning and practicing for this moment since their own Hogwarts days. At sixteen, they'd decided to start the process, and finally at nineteen, two years post-graduation and now back as professors in Transfiguration and Charms, they thought they were ready.

For several minutes, Kurt stood still in the middle of the room, eyes shut and shoulders relaxed. It took a lot of focus and energy to get through the first transformation. Finally, Kurt's body started to shift. He started shrinking, limbs sucking back in towards his torso and after a moment a sleek otter was staring up at Blaine.

"Huh," Blaine said in surprise. "I always thought you'd be some type of cat, like your Patronus."

Kurt stood up on his hind legs and pawed at Blaine's waist.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You're still positively adorable, my little otter husband," Blaine sat down in front of him and looked him over. There wasn't anything particularly different from any other otter that Blaine could see at first. He looked Kurt all over and finally looked at the top of his head. "Aw, your little forehead hairs are coiffed. You are so cute right now. I'm so glad I married you."

A second later, and with a faint pop, Kurt was in front of him, slightly disheveled and smiling.

"I did it! I can– but an otter? Really?"

Blaine nodded and helped Kurt up. "But a cute otter. You can go sunbathe on the lake without anyone bugging you. My turn now!"

Blaine took his place as Kurt sat on the desk. He shut his eyes, breathed deeply and focused on everything they'd been practicing since sixteen. _Find your inner most self_, _the most solid memory of who you are. _It was only a temporary part of the transformation, just to help them into the form the first few times.

They hadn't talked about their memories for this one, not like they had when they'd learned to do the Patronus Charm. Blaine knew his in and out. Kurt's warmth against him, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the absolute solidness in his chest that meant what they had was love. That Kurt was his all.

Suddenly, he felt smaller, like his feet were growing closer to his head. He blinked open and was surprised to see little hairy, webbed feet where his shoes had been.

"Oh my– Blaine! You're an otter, too?"

Blaine tilted his head as Kurt's hand rubbed his cheek.

"Oh, wow, what are the odds, huh? And, oh my gosh, you've got little dark patches over your eyes that are pointy like your eyebrows."

Blaine frowned and growled at Kurt. He wasn't fond of his triangle eyebrows.

"Shush, you're adorable."

A moment later, Blaine was sitting on the floor panting, but back in human form.

"Wow, that's exhausting," he said as Kurt settled down beside him. "How long until it's easier?"

"Depends on us as individuals and how much practice we put in," Kurt said as he looped his arm through Blaine's. "My guess is a few weeks."

"We'll be just in time for the nice weather," Blaine deduced. "We can sunbathe on the lake and hold hands just like real otters do!"

"They don't do that," Kurt said. He stood up and stretched. "That'd be so silly."

"But they do," Blaine insisted. "They hold hands while they're sleeping so they don't drift away from each other."

Kurt frowned, but let Blaine continue to explain it. It made sense, but still seemed absurd to him. They each took another go at transforming and then headed down to the kitchens for an afternoon snack.

* * *

Ron squinted across the sloping lawn down to the lake. There was an enormous crowd of older students all gathered together and pointing way out towards the center. It was too bright to catch whatever was of interest, so he nudged Harry and Hermione.

"What's that all about?"

Harry squinted towards the lake, too, then shrugged. "It's the first nice day since September. Maybe they're thinking about taking a swim."

"Or the giant squid is putting on a show," Ron invented wildly.

"_Or_ you two should actually read _Hogwarts, A History,"_ Hermione snapped. She gave both of them a filthy look and huffed. "It happens every spring, around mid-April."

"What happens?" Harry asked as Ron started hopping along down the lawn.

"The otters," Hermione said patiently. "Every year for over a decade, two otters appear on the lake when spring starts. They float way out in the middle where nobody can reach them and hold hands. Of course, nobody seems to realize otters hold hands when they sleep, to keep them from drifting away from each other, so that's normal. But then they just disappear. There's been a lot of speculation about where they go during the rest of the year."

By the time Harry and Hermione reached the lake, most of the school was sitting along the shoreline, waving and laughing at the pair of otters fifty yards out. Even from there, Harry could see their joined hands as they peacefully floated in circles.

"It's just _otters_," Ron groaned. "How boring. Let's go visit Hagrid or something."

Harry nodded as Hermione smiled at the otters in the distance. "Yeah, maybe we can get him to tell us more about the stone. Hermione? Come on, we're going to Hagrid's!"

Hermione paused for another moment, still smiling as the otters suddenly moved, stretching and then diving straight down into the lake. The rest of the students cheered and gasped, but the otters didn't resurface.

On the far edge of the lake, tucked away behind a large bush, Professors Hummel-Anderson transformed back into their human forms.

"Shall we go break them up and tell them we're a myth again?" Kurt asked, planting a firm kiss on Blaine's mouth.

"Mmm, stay here," Blaine mumbled. And he tugged Kurt down behind the bush with him. "We'll crush their dreams later."


	2. Bisexual

A/N: Day 2! All right, I will say that this one will most likely **not be for everyone**. This prompt features cisgirl!Kurt, named Kourt(ney). I flipped a coin for that since I had ideas with both of them as cisgirls and Kurt won! Both of them are bisexual and exploring that. **So that's a warning, please don't ignore it, **because cisgirl!Kurt/Blaine/Klaine I know is not everyone's thing. There's also a tiny amount of **borderline smut,** though it doesn't quite get there by the end.

For the most part this is a exploration in sexual fluidity through a writing prompt. Tomorrow, however, is **Cancer **so it's going to get a it angsty, but not too much.

** Bisexual**

"Lesbians!"

A purse slammed down on the bar next to Blaine's hand. The ice in his glass clinked as a woman dropped down beside him. "Jack and coke, please," she snapped at the bartender. "Ugh, I'm not coming here anymore."

"Rough night?" Blaine asked uncertainly. He glanced back out towards the dance floor where two of his friends were dancing. As soon as they'd heard he'd never been to a bar before, they'd forced him out onto the streets of New York City. It might have been a fun night if he'd been a lesbian too or if they'd taken him to his first gay bar. Instead, he'd sat at the bar all night and nursed several strawberry margaritas. His first week in the city had certainly ended on a strange note.

The woman spun her chair towards him and looked him over suspiciously. Blaine didn't blame her for the dark look. He'd already seen, and helped out, several women being hit on by stray straight men that had stumbled their way in.

"Oh, you're gay," she said happily. "Thank god. If another straight man comes in here and thinks he's of any interest to any of us, I'll pop his testicles with my heel."

She smiled brightly at him and swallowed half of her drink. "I'm Kourtney. Kourt for short."

"Blaine."

He looked her over carefully as she finished her drink and called for another. She couldn't have been any older than him. Early twenties at most. She was quite beautiful as far as women went, with a strong jaw, bright eyes and short, neatly coiffed hair.

"Are you here with friends?" he asked uncertainly.

She nodded. "A few ladies I know. They're dating so you know how _that_ goes. I just wanted– ugh, _lesbians_."

"Um, aren't you a lesbian?" Blaine said, watching her arrange her skirt and shirt. He blushed at the small glimpse of her mid-drift, then blanched at his own thoughts. Too many margaritas.

Kourt laughed until her eyes crinkled in the corners. "If I was, my night would be heading towards some lovely sex right about now." She shook her head at his confused look. "I'm bisexual, and, well, a lot of the women here aren't fond of a woman who might 'stray for dick'."

"Oh," Blaine said in surprise. He'd never met anyone bisexual in high school, but it seemed silly to him to think that. "That's kind of dumb. Them thinking that, I mean. Polyamory and bisexuality aren't the same thing. Or open relationships or whatever you wanna equate it to."

Kourt looked at him closely and then a genuine smile spread over her face. "At least someone in here is smart."

"Well, I did make it into college."

"So I'm guessing you're here with friends, too," Kourt said as she took a slower sip of her second drink. "You look like you're having as much fun as me."

Blaine twirled his drink on the bar and nodded. "Never admit you've never been to a bar when your first college friends are bar hoppers."

Kourt winced and kicked her heel against the bar stool. "Hmm, you must be new. To the city," she added when he looked puzzled. "I was in the same boat last year. What school are you at?"

"NYADA," Blaine said. "It's my first weekend in the city and–"

"And your new lesbian friends dragged you to a lesbian bar," Kourt laughed brightly and smiled. "Been there. My first friend at NYADA was a gay guy. Took me to a gay strip club. Lots of dicks wagging for a small town Ohio girl."

Blaine blushed a little at the thought. "I bet that was a traumatic experience. God, I hope I never get dragged to a strip club."

"It was pretty nice actually," Kourt said flippantly. She propped her elbows on the bar and eyed him. "I enjoy a nice dick when it's attached to someone worthwhile."

"O- oh," Blaine said. He ducked his head and blushed darker. His stomach felt like it was full of cotton candy. Maybe he'd eaten something that didn't mix well with liquor. "Well, that's not too bad then."

"We should go sometime. My treat," Kourt decided. "I can scream and goggle their helicopter dicks and you can sit back and pop a boner while your face overheats."

"I- I'm– well," Blaine picked his drink up and downed the rest of it. Kourt only laughed, the sound surprisingly low and cheerful.

"I'm just teasing," she said, patting his empty hand on the bar. "You're cute when you blush. Makes your cheeks match your bow tie."

Blaine wished someone would splash water on his face as Kourt reached over and adjusted his bow tie. It was a new one his brother had sent from California, bright red with little Hollywood signs all over it.

"Can I borrow this sometime? It's so cute."

"Sure," Blaine stammered. He smiled shyly at her and let his eyes look her over once more. He hadn't felt so bashful since he'd met his first, and only, boyfriend in high school. They'd dated for close to two years, but finally broken up at the end of their senior year. Jordan was headed to Washington for college and Blaine had chosen New York City. Trying long distance, especially with how many fights they'd already been having, hadn't seemed worth it.

"Oh, god, are you bi, too?"

Blaine jerked his head around so fast he almost toppled over. "What? No. I mean, there was this one girl at a party when I was fifteen, but I was drunk and I don't think– I'm gay."

Kourt took another sip of her drink and watched him carefully. "Okay, but you're blushing an awful lot for a gay man being flirted with by a woman."

"You're flirting– damnit!"

Blaine stood up as his drink spilled all over the bar and onto the floor. The bartender hurried over and wiped it up as Blaine pulled napkins from the dispenser and started wiping the bar stool and floor up. Kourt dropped down with him.

"Boy, I'd hate to see you around a man you want to joyride on," she remarked as they wiped the floor off. "If you can't handle a beautiful woman who you aren't interested in, then you must be hopeless."

"I– dating isn't something I have a lot of experience in," Blaine said awkwardly. "And you _are_ beautiful, and I might be so drunk I don't even know I'm drunk because you're an attractive beautiful and I dunno. This is weird."

"Aw, do you think I'm pretty?" Kourt made a big show of batting her eyes at him as they stood up and ordered new drinks. "I don't like to brag, but these heels do wonders for my chicken legs."

As she tilted her leg to let Blaine see the stiletto, his stomach filled with warmth. "I'm so drunk I'm getting turned on by a leg."

"Honey, you aren't the first boy I've met who realized he was bi instead of gay. I have good radar about these kinds of things."

"I'm not– well, I don't think I am," Blaine said. He gladly took the shot the bartender set down in front of him. It burned his throat, but he slapped the glass back down and waved for a second. "None of the girls I knew were ever interesting, but at Dalton–"

"Oh, god, you went to Dalton? I'm from Lima, went to McKinley," Kourt explained. "We competed against you guys at sectionals a lot. Regionals once, too. I mean, you might just be drunk and projecting your lust onto me. It's possible, _but_ if you've only been around boys for the last four years, assumed your sexuality ended at men, and never questioned it, then you might be bi. Or you might just have a thing for me specifically, and my pretty face."

Blaine quickly downed his second shot and stood up. His knees wobbled slightly and his vision was a little fuzzy, but otherwise he felt okay. "Boobs are weird."

"So are testicles," Kourt said. "Especially when they're smacking against your ass cheeks while you're getting fucked. Like, what the hell, right?"

"I always kinda liked that the few times I bottomed," Blaine mumbled as Kourt handed him a glass of water.

"Switch, huh? I love a man who switches with me," Kourt's hand found one of his as he drank a few mouthfuls of water. "So, I dunno what you're thinking or if it is just the alcohol, but well, my apartment is empty tonight and Santana and Dani live down the hall and they always find their own way home. We could – god, I'm not usually this forward, but you're _hot_."

"Are you inviting me over for sex?" Blaine said in disbelief.

"More like some experimenting," Kourt said with shy smile. She was a softer person when she smiled at him like that. It wasn't that she was suddenly more gentle, but something in her gaze felt more real and genuine to him. "I mean, it's been _months_ for me and I bet you're horny, too. If you like kissing me, then we can do more, or we can just watch a movie and sober up. I mean, if we enjoy each other, then we enjoy each other. It's nobody's place to judge how that fits into some label."

"I'm– my friends," Blaine said lamely. He stared out at the swarm of women on the dance floor. There wasn't one of the three in sight. For all he knew they'd left him stranded here.

"I can show you the joys of a tongue ring," Kourt teased. She tugged on his bow tie playfully and Blaine swallowed as he adjusted himself through his pocket. "What do you say, cutie?"

"Okay," Blaine found himself saying. His eyes stayed on Kourt's grin as it widen and she leaned in and kissed his cheek. She was as a little taller than him in her heels and the damp press on her lips burned like the alcohol had.

* * *

"This is weird."

Kourt flicked her tongue ring against Blaine's neck and laughed. "A good weird or a bad weird? Cause you feel pretty hard through your jeans."

Blaine's hips shifted under her as she dragged her thigh over him again. "Fuck, that's– good weird. Definitely. I just– where do I put my hands?"

As Blaine shifted under her again, Kourt laughed and laid down on him. "The same places you put them when you make out with anyone, you dork. Actually, if you aren't freaking out, I'd _really_ like your hands," she grasped each of his as she sat back and placed one on each breast, "here. Mmm, god, I _really_ like being touched there. Is that okay?"

"They're so… squishy," Blaine remarked as he rolled them awkwardly through her shirt. He giggled a little as she groaned and arched into his hands. "Boobs are so cute."

"You are so gay," Kourt huffed. She lifted the leg she had between Blaine's thighs and straddled his hips. "Are you okay with this? Not having a vagina freak out yet?"

"Vaginas are beautiful," Blaine mumbled as she leaned over him and started sucking on his neck again. "Part of me went into one and then all of me came out. Vaginas are, like, awesome."

"I think you're drunker than me," Kourt giggled and kissed his neck before sitting back and pressing down against the rough outline of his cock. "Oh, you feel good."

To her surprise, Blaine's hips rolled up and started to move with hers. "Wow, that's–" Blaine moaned softly and his hands tightened on her breasts. "I– um, can we, like– skin?"

"Mine or yours?" Kourt asked breathlessly.

"Both? Let's just be naked," Blaine decided. "Naked is nice."

Kourt unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it behind herself as Blaine sat up and tugged his bow tie and polo off. After a few awkward minutes of scrambling and flailing they were down to their underwear and kissing fiercely.

"How are you so soft?" Blaine murmured against Kourt's lips. "God, can I kiss you everywhere? I'm gonna see if your boobs are as soft as your lips."

Before Kourt could agree, Blaine's lips were ghosting over the top of her breasts where her bra didn't cover. She gasped and sat back, hands tangled in his gelled locks as his lips sucked gently and his chin nudged at the cup of her bra.

"They're softer," Blaine murmured as he moved over to the second one. "That's really amazing. Boobs are neat. Can I, um, how do you undo these things?"

With another giggle, Kourt leaned back and unhooked her bra. She was nervous to lose it as she always was with a guy, but Blaine seemed mesmerized by everything about her and her body. There was no judgment in his eyes like with most men she'd slept with. It was a nice change.

"Your nipples," Blaine's surprised voice said. "They're so _perky_."

"Oh my god," Kourt laughed as his mouth inched forward, first over the damp skin and then down towards her nipple. _"Oh my god,_ wow. Keep doing that."

"What if milk comes out?"

They collapsed back against the pillows as Kourt swatted his chest and they both laughed until they couldn't breathe.


	3. Cancer

A/N: Day 3 coming at ya! So today is Cancer and there's some obvious triggers and warnings that come along with at. This prompt deals with **disease and character death**. I don't say who because spoilers, but there is a death. It's generally a happy prompt, though.

Nothing else to be said on it. Tomorrow is **Daddies.** Until then!

**Cancer**

"But why?"

"Kurt, it's complicated."

"But Daddy, why won't cough syrup work?" Kurt pressed. "It always works for me. I bet if you gave Mommy the right kind–"

Burt sighed and stopped his son in the hall. "Kurt, son, what Mommy has, it's not as simple as a cold or that flu you had last year."

"Is it like chicken pox?" Kurt wondered. He swung their joined hands and smiled up at him. "There was a stinky bath and stuff for that. We can get some and give it to her!"

"No, bud, it's a lot worse than chicken pox," Burt said gently. "It's called cancer. It's… it's very serious, Kurt. The doctors are doing all they can to figure out how to get her better."

"Oh." Kurt frowned at him as Burt patted his shoulder and stood up. "Is Mommy here all alone?"

"Oh, no, there's lots of other people here on her floor. Doctors, nurses, other patients."

"Do they have cancer, too?"

"Yeah, bud, they do." Kurt kept a firm grip on his father's hand as they headed down the hall and into his mother's room. It was the second week in a row she'd been here. They'd visited every day since and every day Kurt had more questions. He could tell his father didn't know how to answer a lot of them, but it made him feel better to hear him talk about it.

"Mommy! Mommy, I brought a pretty picture today!"

But Kurt froze in the doorway. Another kid was sitting in his spot at his mommy's side.

"Oh, Kurt, sweetheart, come here."

Kurt let go of his father's hand and inched towards the bed. The other kid was in pajamas and a fuzzy red beanie. His eyes were bright and cheerful when he spotted Kurt.

"Hi! I'm Blaine! I've gotta go, Mrs. Hummel! Thanks for the story."

"Of course, sweetheart."

Kurt scrambled onto the bed after the boy left, frowning and with crossed arms.

"Hi," his mother said. She stroked his hair and looked him over. "Why so glum?"

"You called him sweetheart," Kurt said grumpily. "But that's _my _ name. _I'm_ your sweetheart."

"Of course you are," his mother said, smiling at him. Kurt's frown deepened. She thought he was funny.

"It's not funny. You're _my _mommy!"

"Oh, Kurt, there's nobody else's mommy I'll ever want to be," his mother kissed his cheek and stroked his hair. "You're my perfect, sweet boy. Blaine is just a boy here in the hospital with me. He's sick, too."

"With cancer?"

His mother looked over his head at his father and then back at his face. "Yes, Blaine has leukemia," she said after a pause. "He's quite sick. There's only one other kid here, but she's very little and can't come out to play with him."

"So he comes here?" Kurt asked in wonder. He looked his mother over. She wasn't a little kid or someone to play with. Not anymore, not since she moved here. "Why?"

"He saw you last week," she explained. "I think he thought you were new here, and that he'd have a friend. He's been coming back all week asking about you. I bet," she tapped his nose tip and Kurt giggled, "I bet you and Blaine will be wonderful friends. He's just your age, too."

"Really?"

"Yup, why don't you go see him for a little bit? He's in room 206, just down the hall."

"But I wanna see you," Kurt protested. Hs father scooped him up and set him on his feet.

"Go on, bud. We're staying late tonight and we'll be here all weekend," Burt assured him. "Go on, champ. Let Mommy and Daddy have a little time alone, okay?"

Kurt nodded as he stared at their clasped hands. Mommy and Daddy time wasn't something his parents had much of anymore. Not since his mother had come here to stay. He set off down the hall, slowly looking up at the numbers on the panels on the wall. 214, 212, 210... he continued down until he reached 206. The door was wide open and inside everything was brightly colored and happy. It looked like his own bedroom had been moved into the room. There were bright blankets and toys and a giant stuffed puppy. Power Rangers posters decorated the wall opposite.

"Hi!"

The boy from his mother's room was sitting on the bed, but he beamed and climbed down when he saw Kurt. He was a little taller than Kurt, extremely pale, and his eyebrows were missing.

"How come you've got no eyebrows?"

"Oh, they fell off," Blaine explained awkwardly. He tugged on his beanie and shuffled his feet. "But that's okay 'cause they were kinda weird and pointy."

"I'm Kurt," he offered. Blaine took his hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Do you live here like my mommy does now?"

"Yup, since kindergarten," Blaine said. He adjusted his beanie one more time, then grabbed Kurt's hand. "Come on, my daddy got me this new Power Ranger set. They're so cool!"

They played for hours, laughing and talking and having adventures as the red and blue rangers. Kurt almost forgot where they were and why he was there until someone rapped on the door. It wasn't a nurse like it had been when they'd first decided on Power Rangers. Instead his father was leaning in.

"Kurt, let's go grab some dinner downstairs, okay?"

"But we're in the middle of battling Rita Repulsa," Kurt exclaimed. "Just two minutes, and my pretty heels will crush her face in."

"Kurt." He looked up at the sudden sternness in his father's voice. "Come on, they close in half an hour. Let's go eat so Blaine can get some rest."

"It's okay, Mr. Hummel," Blaine yawned. His red ranger slipped from his grip. "I'm having so much fun."

But his father shook his head and scooped Blaine up. "Nope, it's time for you to nap. Your mommy's on her way here from work. Get some rest, okay? You and Kurt can play all day tomorrow."

Burt tucked him in as Kurt watched Blaine's eyes drifted shut. Blaine was asleep before Kurt could finish putting the action figures away. He took his father's hand and they headed down to the cafeteria. His father gave him a plate of lasagna and garlic bread and they sat down by the windows.

"Blaine won't be able to play all day tomorrow, will he?"

His father looked up and chewed softly. "No, probably not. He gets tired out really fast, Kurt. Remember when Uncle John and baby Miranda were over for Christmas last year? Remember how she had to sleep a lot? It's kind of like that."

"Oh. Is it like how Mommy has to stay in bed now?"

"Yeah," his father said quietly. "Blaine's very sick, Kurt. I know he doesn't act like it much, but he is. He spends most of his days going through all sorts of tests and exams and being given medicines."

"That doesn't sound like any fun," Kurt frowned and pierced a stray lasagna layer with his fork. "Why doesn't he get to go to school and play outside?"

His father sighed. "I wish I had a good answer, bud. You want dessert?"

Kurt shook his head and ate another forkful of lasagna. It wasn't right that Blaine was here. Or his mother. Or any of the other people. They finished up, dropped their dirty plates off, and headed back upstairs.

* * *

"Have you ever thought about dying?"

Kurt flinched at Blaine's question. It was late November now, only a few days after Thanksgiving. Five months since his mother had come here, since he'd met Blaine. Blaine seemed to be the same as ever, but his mother had lost her hair and now her smile. His father was sadder looking than a dog with a droopy face and Kurt didn't have to think about that question to know they weren't next.

"Dunno," Kurt mumbled. "Mommy always talked about angels and brightness and stuff. I think it's scary. Like the quiet that fills up the house at night and school really early in the morning."

Blaine nodded. "My parents always talk about that kind of stuff, but I think it's just an end. Like a basketball game. The buzzer goes off and it's over, you know? People can talk about all the different plays and baskets and fouls, but they can't ever have it back again. Not like the first time."

Kurt sniffled and dropped his head onto Blaine's shoulder. "Just read the book, will ya? I don't wanna talk about that stuff."

"Okay." Blaine pulled his blanket up to their chests and propped _Where the Sidewalk Ends_ open on his stomach.

* * *

On the ninth of December, Kurt said goodbye to his mother for the last time. The funeral was three days later, and his father was a mess worse than any Kurt had ever left in his room. Kurt didn't know what he was supposed to do or why his mother wasn't there anymore. Cancer, sure, but lots of people were sick for a long time with no real problems. His grandpa had had diabetes for more years than Kurt had been alive and he was still okay.

The entire family came down to their house that Christmas and it wasn't until after the New Year that Kurt remembered Blaine. But he wasn't at the hospital when his father took him for a visit. The room had been emptied out. The head nurse said he'd been moved to another facility out near Columbus.

Kurt cried himself to sleep all that week and the next. He kept his face buried in his pillows and cried until he thought the hurt had drenched the pillowcase.

* * *

Kurt was jittery. After eleven years he was back at Lima Memorial's cancer unit with his father. Prostate cancer was what his father had told him four months ago. It had been the bleakest Christmas since the one shortly after his mother had died.

Carole clutched his arm between hers. " I'm sure he'll be just fine, Kurt. The doctors found it early, remember?"

His father paced in front of them in the little examination room. A dark shirt and blue jeans.

"Dad, I told you not to wear–"

"Kurt, I'm barely keeping it together here!"

They snapped at each other for a few moments, and then the doctor entered. It was good news, better news than Kurt had dared to hope for since he'd first learned the word cancer a decade ago. His father was ecstatic, hugging them both, prattling on about grandbabies and old people sex. The two of them headed downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch while Kurt found a stairwell and started making his calls. There were a dozen people who had texted him that morning asking to hear as soon as he knew.

"Rachel, he's fine. He's going to be fine."

She squealed until Kurt had to hang up to save his hearing. Next was Mercedes. Then Mike, Santana… By the time he finished his voice was hoarse and his stomach was growling. He ducked out of the stairwell to follow his father and Carole to the cafeteria only to run straight into someone.

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying attention!"

"It's fine. I wasn't– Kurt? Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt looked the young man over. He was around his age, a little younger perhaps. His hair was dark and gelled, his eyes bright, and his eyebrows were impressively pointy. There was something familiar about those, but he couldn't say what.

"Yes? I'm Kurt Hummel. Do I know you?" Kurt looked him over once more. Sharp outfit, a neatly tied bow tie, and a smile that gave the moon good competition. "You… I swear I know you from somewhere."

The other man laughed, his smile growing. "It _is_ you! I saw you and your dad upstairs earlier, but I was late. I'm Blaine. You probably don't remember me, it was a long time ago and I didn't have any hair."

Kurt's mouth fell open. Blaine Anderson. The little boy he'd befriended in the hospital all those years ago and had assumed dead not long after. Yet here he was, with hair and muscles and a smile that was melting Kurt's stomach to goo.

"Oh my gosh, I thought– but you're here. I thought you'd died." Kurt launched himself at the other boy and nearly sent them both to the floor. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you again. How've you been? You said you had an appointment?"

"Just a yearly check up these days," Blaine explained as Kurt stepped back. His cheeks were a bright, handsome pink that make Kurt drop his gaze. "I'm been in remission since I was nine. It's a funny feeling, when all your hair starts growing back."

Kurt laughed, a high, silly laugh he'd never made before. "You weren't lying about the pointy part." He reached out and ran his thumb across one thick eyebrow, then blushed. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Blaine beamed at him and cleared his throat. "How about you? I didn't think you'd ever come back here after… after your mom."

Kurt frowned a little and some of the giddiness seeped out of him. "My dad," he said finally. "He came to visit me in New York over the holidays and said he had cancer. Prostate cancer. Today was his last appointment."

"He's going to be okay?" Blaine asked. His hand grasped Kurt's like it always had when they were boys.

"Yeah, he's cleared," Kurt laughed a little in relief. "God, I've been so worried. If I lost him, too–"

He was suddenly in Blaine's arms again, being hugged tightly. Kurt relaxed into it and sighed against Blaine's neck. Missing hugs like this wasn't something he'd ever thought about, but he had missed this feeling. It wasn't completeness or the end of loss; it was like he was remembering something from before he'd met Blaine down the hall. Something with this boy that always floated through them.

"Hey, let's go get lunch," Blaine suggested. "Celebrate and catch up. What do you say?"

"Absolutely," Kurt agreed. He took Blaine's hand again and they smiled bashfully at each other. "So is this your first date with a New Yorker?"

"I bet it's your first with a minor," Blaine countered. "Come on. If I remember right, it's chicken pot pie day downstairs. I ate that stuff by the pot."


	4. Daddies

A/N: Today's a cute one. Just lots of cuteness. No warnings or triggers. Tomorrow's **Equality **and the shortest of the whole group. Enjoy!

**Daddies**

"Did you know Ashlee is a boy's name, too?"

Those were the first words out of Devon's mouth as he flung his bag into Blaine's chest. Blaine huffed and caught it, but glared down at his son. It was his first day of middle school. Before today, he'd always been given an excited rundown about subjects, teachers, and new friends. But for Devon's first day of sixth grade all he got was a question about a name.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "It's mostly a boy's name in England, I think."

"Well, my new best friend is a boy named Ashlee and he goes by Ash cause he thinks Ashlee is silly and he likes it better than Lee." Devon grinned up at him as Blaine forced him to take his bag again. He was a small boy of eleven, only reaching Blaine's elbow, but with the same unruly curls that Blaine always kept tamed. "Can he sleepover on Friday? _Please!_"

"We'll see," Blaine decided. "Come on, I'm going to be late to meet the guy I'm playing opposite."

"Aw, but _Dad!_ I don't want to go to the theatre!"

"That's too bad," Blaine told him as they hurried down the stairs at the closest subway stop. "You're not going all the way to the apartment by yourself and I don't have the time to take you back and then get to the theatre."

"But Uncle Sam could–"

"Your Uncle Sam is out of town until the fifteenth," Blaine reminded him. He tugged Devon into a seat and soon enough they were hurtling along towards Broadway. Devon sulked beside him despite Blaine's attempts to perk him up. Ever since his eleventh birthday in July, his son had gotten increasingly moody.

"This blows," Devon mumbled as they climbed the stairs onto the street and hurried towards the theatre. "I'm _eleven_. I can totally ride the subway home by myself."

"Not as long as I'm your father, you aren't. We've already talked about this. When you start high school, you can ride the subway home from school and practice."

Devon huffed and followed Blaine in the side door and down a short hallway to the stage.

"Sorry, I'm late," Blaine called as they shuffled in. "I had to get Devon from school."

The director was there, along with a tall, beautiful man. Blaine stared.

"Ash? Is that you?"

"Hi Devon!"

Blaine watched his son vault off the stage and join another boy out in the third row.

"It looks like our sons know each other. I'm Kurt Hummel," the man introduced. He smiled hopefully and Blaine tried not to blush or stare openly. Kurt was breathtaking up close, with perfectly styled hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that was soft and sharp. It wasn't going to be difficult to be his romantic interest on stage. If he was lucky, he might get the chance in real life.

"Blaine Anderson. Your son's all he talked about from his first day," he added.

"Ash wouldn't shut up about Devon either," Kurt said, still smiling as his eyes glanced over Blaine. "He's already demanding a sleepover this weekend."

The director called them over and started having them run lines together.

Down in the third row, Devon and Ash propped their feet up and started whispering.

"I think my dad likes your dad," Devon muttered. He had his math book propped open on his lap, but his pencil hadn't moved. "He always gets that moony eyed look when he sees a handsome guy."

Ash glanced around his feet and nodded. "Dad's got his heart eyes going, too. See that? The way he just looked away with that big, dopey smile? He's got a crush."

"Huh," Devon said, watching the man up on stage as his dad and him started mapping out one of their scenes again. "So do you like to scheme because if we do this right we could be _brothers_."

"Brothers?" Ash echoed. "That's kind of jumping the gun a bit, isn't it? What if they, like, don't like the same movies or bedding or something?"

"It could happen," Devon insisted as he clapped his feet closed to block his view of the stage. "I've always wanted a brother. My Uncle Cooper has _three_ kids_._ And Uncle Sam has four. Being an only kid is lonely."

"Yeah," Ash said. "It kind of sucks sometimes. It's just me and Dad except when Aunt Rachel or Auntie Tana visited us in London. Or when we came back here for the holidays. My Uncle Finn has a couple kids, but I haven't seen them since they were babies."

"You don't have an accent," Devon remarked, turning to look him over. "Did you live there long?"

"Oh, Daddy's taught me lots of accents since he's an actor," Ash told him. He slipped smoothly into a London accent. "We were only in London for a few years. Now we're back so we can see Grandpa more and so Daddy can do Broadway. He was on West End back in London."

"We should be brothers," Devon insisted. "They look cute together and then we won't be only kids and we can ride the subway home instead of sitting here all afternoon."

Ash eyed their dads up on stage. "Well, they certainly have chemistry. I can see why they cast them together. And my dad could use a new boyfriend."

"Really?" Devon squealed and his math book went flying. "What should we do first? Can we–"

"Devon Alexander, you better not be hopping on the seats again," Blaine called from the stage. "I don't need to spend the evening in the E.R. with you getting a cast put on your arm again."

"That was _one_ time!"

"Stop hopping around down there," Blaine scolded. "I'm sure you have homework."

Devon glowered at the stage as Ash handed him his math book. "Come on. Let's get this assignment done and then we can make lists of what they both like and don't like. Then pick a restaurant and a song– oh! We could have you and your dad over for dinner and then a sleepover."

Devon crinkled his nose. "I dunno if Dad'll go for that. I mean, the dinner sure, but not him sleeping over. Besides, I don't know if I wanna risk listening to _that_."

"Ew Devon!"

"Devon Alexander Anderson, I swear if you are mooning someone again like Cooper taught you I will–"

"Dad! That was only twice!"

Up on stage, Kurt started laughing and the director dismissed them for the evening to get better acquainted. Devon and Ash stuffed their books back into their bags and climbed up onto the stage. Their dads were waiting, Kurt giving Blaine several coy looks and Blaine beaming bashfully.

"Can we take them to Mario's?" Devon asked immediately. "It's right by the apartment and they live in the same building! Can you believe that, Dad? We can get it to go and go back and watch a movie."

"Please, Dad, _please_," Ash added. "We did all of our homework and I'm starving!"

"Well," Kurt looked from his beaming son to Blaine. "We were talking about going to dinner anyway. But, like, out somewhere to talk about our roles."

"We can get Mario's," Blaine said, making both boys cheer. "We can decide on location once we get there. They're usually pretty busy, but they have _amazing_ cheese fries."

Ash tugged on his father's arm and hopped around. "Come on, Dad, then me and Devon can have a sleepover!"

"I– if it's all right with Blaine, then we can go back to their apartment."

"I'm game. Especially if we're in the same building."

* * *

"I can't believe they fell asleep."

"Give it another year," Kurt said. "They'll be up half the night no matter how many times you tell them to go to sleep."

Blaine looked out into the living room at the pair of boys asleep in the big lounge chair. They'd stuffed themselves full of a pizza each, popped in _The Wizard of Oz,_ and promptly fallen asleep twenty minutes in. The movie was still playing, but Kurt and Blaine had moved to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

"You really don't have to help clean up," Blaine said for the fourth time.

"No, no, we helped make the mess, and at least one of us is helping clean it up." Kurt smiled at him as he dried the last cup and handed it to Blaine to put away. "I can't believe we live just downstairs from you."

"Small world, I guess," Blaine replied, finding Kurt's eyes on him. He blushed and looked back towards the living room. "At least they'll have someone to keep them entertained while we rehearse."

"I guess Devon isn't a big theatre fan," Kurt deduced. "Ash loves it, but me and his mother are both huge theatre buffs, so he comes by it honestly."

Blaine wilted at his words. Ash's mother. Kurt wasn't only straight, but he was no doubt married.

"Oh, I didn't realize I was keeping you from your wife–"

Kurt started laughing so hard he had to grab hold of the counter. "Oh my– you think," he chuckled a few more times and shook his head. "No, no, I'm not married–or straight. Ashlee's mom… it's a long, very drunken tale of best friends gone wrong. Very wrong. Like, we both threw up when we realized we'd– well, yeah." Kurt cleared his throat and looked down at his twisted hands. "We love Ashlee to death, but it wasn't anything a gay man and a lesbian had planned. She visits a few times a year, but that's it."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded and tried not to let his delight at Kurt's sexuality show. Kurt was gorgeous, easily the most attractive man Blaine had seen in his entire life. "Devon wasn't part of any plans of mine either. I was just a sperm donor for a few friends and, well, they're gone and I decided to raise him myself."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. "It's– I lost my mom when I was a boy. It's not easy."

Whether he was referring to being a single parent or losing a loved one, Blaine didn't find out. Little Ash appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Dad, can we go home now? Devon kicks in his sleep."

"Yeah, sure, champ." Ash disappeared to find his bag. Kurt turned back to Blaine and smiled softly. "It's been a lot of fun. I'll see you for rehearsal tomorrow, fantasy lover. Don't forget your costume."

Blaine blushed. "Costume? I'm spending half of the first act shirtless– oh."

"Dad! Come on!"

Kurt smiled shyly and waved as he left.

* * *

Burt was awoken a few days before Christmas by his phone ringing.

"Burt, would you just answer that already?" Carole rolled over and started snorting again.

With a grunt, Burt fumbled for his phone and answered the call.

"Grandpa? Grandpa! It's a FaceTime call. I don't wanna see your cheek."

He smiled and turned the phone away from his ear. His oldest grandson stared back at him, along with another, unfamiliar face. It was another boy around Ashlee's age with wild curls and eyes like frost. "Hey, kiddo. Why are you calling so early?"

"Cause our dads are still asleep and they're both so _stupid!_ Has Dad always been like this? God, it shouldn't be this complicated to set two people up."

"Well, our only help was Uncle Sam and he's kind of dumb," the strange boy said. Then he waved at Burt. "Hi! I'm Devon! We're trying to make me your grandson, too!"

"You're–what? Ash, what are you two on about? It's–" he glanced at the clock on the night-stand. "Six in the morning?"

"Grandma Carole?" Ash called. "How do you set up two doofuses in love?"

"Hmm?" Carole hummed and rolled over towards Burt. "Is that Ashlee?"

"It's _Ash!_ God, I don't know why Dad let her pick that name."

"I think it's pretty cool," Devon said, looking at him. "We both have gender neutral names. 'Cause we're going to be brothers. If we can get them to just _kiss_!"

Carole was wide awake now, and tugging the phone out of Burt's hand. "Oh, this sounds so romantic. Are you sure they like each other? I don't want you boys interfering with their lives and feelings if you aren't absolutely sure."

"They would have kissed yesterday if _someone_ hadn't tripped over his big feet," Devon snarled at Ash.

"At least I don't wear kid's sizes anymore," Ash snapped back. He glared at Devon and straightened his posture until he could look over the other boy's head. Burt shook his head. At that age, Kurt had been pudgy and short, but Ash had always been built like a lamppost. "Ugh, just tell us how to make them boyfriends so we can work on making them husbands next."

Carole shook her head. "Boys, that's not how it works. You can't force them. I'm sure your interfering is only making it take longer, _if_ you're right."

"We are!"

"They're absolutely in love! Wait until you see them on stage tomorrow night!"

"And back stage where they smile and hug and stare into each other's eyes–"

"Go back to bed, boys," Carole said. "Let your dads get there on their own."

"But–"

"Goodbye, Ashlee."

"_Ugh!_" The video cut out.

* * *

By the time Kurt's parents arrived for the holidays, Blaine was beyond annoyed with the boys. Kurt wasn't much further behind. They'd had multiple dinners together, spent evenings watching movies while they thought they were alone, but no. The boys were always lurking. The only romantic encounters they had were during their scenes on stage, and Blaine didn't think a passionate kiss between Levi and Jordan counted towards Kurt and Blaine.

"Oh, Dad, I'm so glad you two are here," Kurt said when they all met outside the apartment building. They'd taken a cab from the airport while Kurt and Blaine finished up another rehearsal. Kurt introduced Blaine to his parents as they hurried in out of the cold. "The boys have been driving us nuts. Last week they were trying to be Spidermen out on the fire escape to watch us. It was awful."

"Is that why they're grounded then? Not giving you a moment alone," Burt said slyly as they headed upstairs. "Kids are like that. We can, uh, watch them for a while and give you two a break, if you want."

"Would you?" Kurt asked, as they stopped at his apartment and carried their bags inside. "God, I don't know if it's just them being teenagers or something, but they've both gotten insane."

Blaine nodded. "I'd say it's my brother rubbing off on them, but we haven't seen him since Easter."

"We should go check on them," Kurt said, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm sure they're up to something else by now."

"Yeah, they're probably planning another dinner fire or–"

"We've got it," Carole said. "No, no, we'll go watch them and give you two a break. Twelve year olds are a handful in pairs."

After ten minutes of consistent convincing, Blaine found himself and Kurt alone.

"I give it ten minutes before they're climbing all over us again," Kurt said. He dropped down onto the couch and closed his eyes. He patted the spot next to him. "Let's just sit here and pretend we're young, single, twenty-somethings without sons."

Blaine dropped down, but kept his eyes on Kurt. The strong curve of his jaw, the sharp line of his cheekbones. He somehow managed to be beautiful in an entirely new way every day. "So does that mean twenty-something Kurt would be willing to kiss twenty-something Blaine under the mistletoe?"

Kurt's eyes popped open as he sat up. "What?"

"Your son hung one right over every spot on this couch," Blaine reminded him with a hopeful smile. "So I guess we should technically kiss twice. One for mine," he nodded up at the mistletoe over his seat, "and another for yours."

A soft smile eased some of the sharpness out of Kurt's face. "Well, I have been hoping to kiss you for a while," he admitted. "And I mean, Blaine, not Levi. Though I'm guessing Blaine is as much of a divine kisser as Levi."

"There's only one way to find out," Blaine agreed as Kurt leaned in.

The door slapped open.

"Did you two– _damnit!_"

Devon stomped his foot and yanked the door closed. "Pretend I wasn't here!" he hollered from the hall. "Just go back to what you were about to do!"

They listened to him thunder back upstairs, his voice carrying after him. "They were so _close_, Ash! Their faces were, like, this far apart!"

"I told you it was too soon!"

"And I told both of you to leave your fathers alone, did I not?" Carole's voice was sonorous as the door upstairs closed. "They'll never get anywhere if you two keep barging in."

"But we're just trying to help," Devon insisted. "We aren't–"

"You'll leave them alone for the entire week we're here or there'll be hell to pay. Do you two understand?"

It fell silent after that, but Blaine could imagine his son and Ash nodding pitifully.

"They're quite the pair," Kurt remarked with a fond smile at the ceiling. "They're going to make wonderful brothers."

Blaine hummed and settled into Kurt's side. He tugged fondly on the chain around Kurt's neck until Kurt slipped it out of his shirt and twirled the ring on it. "I'm going to miss messing with them about this," he mumbled as Kurt kissed his forehead. "It's not often I get one over on Devon."

"I'm just surprised we managed it until Christmas," Kurt said as he unhooked the chain and slid his engagement ring onto his finger. "It's been fun pretending to be clueless just to annoy them."

"Still, it's a good Christmas present for them. We'll figure out some other way to get them," Blaine told him. He sat up a little and pressed his forehead against Kurt's. "So about that mistletoe kiss…"


	5. Equality

A/N: Today's the short of the bunch. Not even 700 words. It's short and cute and pretty simple. Tomorrow, however, is **Finn.**There's going to be some obvious warnings to go along with that and there's a few pictures, but I can't insert them on here. Enjoy this short one!

**Equality**

Blaine yanked his blankets over his head as Tina continued to prattle on beside him.

"And there's all sorts of events all week, so I got tickets for us and Sam got one," she said. "They never had gay pride or equality parades in Lima. It's going to be so much fun."

"You aren't even gay," Blaine muttered.

But she didn't listen. Sam and her pulled him out of bed by the ankles, forced him to get dressed and then dragged him to the subway. Sure, Blaine had heard all about gay pride parades, especially the one in New York City. He'd even been to a few events over the course of the year, but walking out in the hot sun with a bunch of sweaty people hadn't been his idea of a good afternoon. Still, Tina and Sam were beaming and bought the first rainbow flags and shirts they'd seen. It was nice in its own way, knowing his two best friends supported not only him, but others of sexualities and genders different than their own.

"Come on, we've gotta get a good spot to walk," Sam insisted. He marched through the crowd ready to start walking through the streets. "It's good exercise and fun. Maybe you'll meet a hot guy."

Blaine frowned but settled between Sam and Tina for the march. The crowd started forward and a group towards the back started singing loudly. They were jostled a bit as they walked, down one street and then another, by the end of the first hour Sam had whipped his shirt off and had a dozen phone numbers from men walking in the parade. He kept handing them to Blaine, who rolled his eyes and batted the slips of paper away. There was even a business card in his hand.

"Sam, I don't know why you took them, you aren't interested," Tina said. She tied her hair back and then tied her shirt at her waist. "Honestly, it is that hard to say you're straight?"

"No, but if I call them and say I've got a hot gay friend who is interested–"

"But I'm not!" Blaine protested. "They were all so… forward. I can't deal with that. I'd just blubber like an idiot."

"But you're a cute idiot," Sam said as they turned another corner.

Blaine scoffed, but Tina eyed him with a sigh. "You are very dreamy."

Sam snorted and threw an arm around each of them. "We're quite a group. Tina wants to bone you, you want to bone me, and I– well, I don't have a naked interest in either of you."

"I do," said a voice from behind them. "It takes a fine man to fill out a pair of jeans like that."

Another man appeared, much like the rest. Only his eyes settled on Blaine as he fell into step beside them. Blaine glanced at him, expecting the man's eyes to be lingering over Sam's ripped stomach. Instead he found a crystal blue pair of eyes lingering over his own physique. He blushed as the man looked him over, and took a quick glance him. Tight tan jeans, a sharp purple belt, beautiful boots, coiffed brown hair, and a bare chest starting to shine with sweat.

"I'd say it's about time you got a phone number instead of your straight friend," the man offered him a little slip of paper and Blaine found himself accepting it. "Text me. We can get coffee after."

As the man drifted back into the crowd, Sam whistled and Blaine unfolded the slip of paper in his hand. Kurt Hummel and a phone number with an Lima, Ohio zip code.

"Oh, what's his name?" Tina leaned over his arm to look. "Isn't that a local zip code? From back home, I mean."

Blaine nodded and Sam patted him on the shoulder. "I knew we'd find you a date here. I'm tired of leaving you home with your rom-coms every Saturday."


	6. Finn

A/N: Day 6 arrives and it's a sad one. **There are definite warnings and triggers** considering the subject.** Grief, mentions of character death**. This prompt follows Kurt and Blaine from their engagement through the early years of their marriage, in canon, as they (particularly Kurt) struggle and cope and move forward after Finn's death. There are lighter moments, particularly towards the end.

There's two pictures that go along with this one. They're attached to the tumblr post since I can't add anything on here: post/74571974307 Remove the parentheses from that and it'll work. Pictures are all the way at the bottom.

Tomorrow is **Ghost.** Enjoy, take into consideration the warnings, and I'll see you guys tomorrow for another!

**Finn**

"Don't be ridiculous. No, I don't know when we'll get married yet. Spring or autumn, I'd say."

Blaine hummed and blinked awake. It was a little after dawn and Kurt was sitting in the window seat in his room. Pale, long, and lean, Kurt stretched his bare legs out in front of him and kept his gaze out the window. It wasn't a sight Blaine had ever thought he'd see. Only a year ago Kurt had been so nervous about being naked, even inside one of their bedrooms, that he'd put his shirt and underwear on before he ever climbed out from under the covers.

Almost a year in New York had certainly changed Kurt's stance on nudity. Blaine was glad in a way, he'd get to see that for years to come. They were fiancés now. Fiancés! Kurt had said yes to spending the rest of their lives together.

"I don't know if there'll be doves," Kurt was saying. He laughed brightly and shook his head. "Finn, no. Don't you _dare_. And no ice sculptures. They'll melt and flood the place. Listen, I've got _binders_ full of possibilities separated by seasons and Ohio and New York, but I think New York is going to be our spot. We'll both be living there, so you'll have to come visit for the wedding, and–"

Blaine yawned and wrapped the comforter around himself like a cape. He pecked Kurt on the cheek and murmured good morning as Kurt laughed again.

"I haven't– hi, good morning– no, not you, Finn. Blaine's awake… yes, we're naked. You damn well know what we did last night, you goof."

Kurt inched forward until Blaine could slid in behind him and wrap the comforter around them both. As Kurt leaned back against his chest, Blaine could just make out Finn's excited voice. He stroked his fingers through Kurt's messy hair and kissed his temple.

"So, um, have you thought about a, um, like a best man? I'm guessing Blaine'll pick Sam," Finn said. He cleared his throat as Blaine started to doze against Kurt's neck.

"I– well, I thought Mercedes a lot time ago, and then Rachel at one point, but," Kurt paused and nudged Blaine awake. "Rachel might drive me nuts. I'll be bad enough, so I think I need someone to sort of ground me a bit. Like Sam'll do for Blaine."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," Finn said as Blaine yawned and mused up Kurt's hair a little more. "So, like, Puck or Santana or someone?"

"I– Blaine, my hair is messy enough," Kurt swatted his hand away and allowed Blaine to nuzzle his face into Kurt's neck. "I was sort of hoping you'd want to be actually."

"_Really?_" Blaine's head flew back at the shout from Kurt's phone, his head wobbling between surprise and sleepy. "You'd– Kurt, if you want someone else– just because we're brothers doesn't mean–"

"But we're more than brothers, Finn, we're best friends. It took us a long time to get there, but you're my first choice," Kurt said. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine and smiled. "You're my only choice."

"I'll totally do it, dude," Finn said. "I dunno what all I'm supposed to do besides the speech. Emma took care of everything when I was Mr. Schue's best man, but I'm your guy. Well, your _other_ guy."

"I hope Kurt doesn't have any _other_ guys on the side," Blaine mumbled towards the mouth piece. "This man is mine."

Finn laughed as Kurt rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you want me to be your best man, like, you're serious?"

"Yeah, I am," Kurt said.

"But, like, _serious_ serious, right?"

Blaine and Kurt laughed. "Finn Christopher Hudson, I promise nobody else but you will be my best man at our wedding," Kurt told him. "You're my best brother, okay? I promise."

* * *

"Oh, look at these bridesmaid dresses! Or groomsmaid dresses? They need a better name for how this works."

Rachel leapt down between Blaine and Kurt and forced the magazine into Kurt's face.

"Ugh, Rachel those are," Kurt grimaced and pushed it towards Blaine to see. "Mint green. Those are awful. We're having an autumn wedding. I was thinking some sort of red or deep purple, like plum."

"Purple has my vote," Blaine said as he made a face and handed Rachel back the mint green dresses. "And–"

"Red and yellow roses," they said together. Kurt and Blaine smiled and laughed and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You two are sickening sometimes," she remarked. "I'm the best woman, don't I get a say?"

Blaine froze as Kurt slapped his magazine shut. But Rachel was still talking just as she always did.

"I mean, I'm the head of that, aren't I? And I'm the one who has to _wear _it," Rachel continued heatedly. "As your best–"

"You aren't," Kurt snapped. He stood up and flung his magazine in her face. "You are _not_ my best man, Rachel Berry."

"But–" Rachel looked up at him in disbelief. "But I'm your best friend! It's always been _us_. Us for New York, for NYADA, and Broadway."

"And Blaine, too. He was in on that," Kurt snarled. He pushed past their legs towards his and Blaine's room. "And he's still– he'll _always_ be here."

Blaine stayed quiet as Kurt stormed away into their curtained off room. Rachel got up to follow him, looking hurt and angry.

"Kurt Hummel, don't you–"

"No," Blaine said sharply. He caught Rachel by the arm and pulled her back onto the couch. "Rachel, don't."

"But I'm his best friend. I always thought– who is it? You know, don't you? How could he pick someone else?" Rachel demanded. "I'm supposed to be his best woman! Who would he pick over me? Santana would be a joke. Mercedes, Mercedes! That's who he's picked, isn't it?"

"Rachel, this is," Blaine paused and buried his face in his hands. He'd thought Kurt had told her, but obviously he hadn't. "It's complicated."

"Well, then he's going to uncomplicated it," Rachel said fiercely. She hopped up again, but Blaine blocked her way.

"No, it's– best _man,_ Rachel. He said best man," Blaine said, hoping she'd figure it out without him having to shove a hot poker into her eyes.

"Oh, since when does Kurt care about gender roles and traditions? Like, really? That's how you're going to defend him?"

"He made a promise," Blaine said. His voice cracked as he sat back down and rubbed his neck. "Kurt made a promise, Rachel, six months ago."

Rachel froze, her body going rigid as Blaine continued.

"The morning after I asked him, the first thing he did was call Finn," Blaine said quietly. "H- he… he said there was nobody else he wanted when he asked him. He swore to Finn that he would be his best man."

"But that's– Finn is– he's _gone_, Blaine," Rachel said. To Blaine it sounded like a plea. A plea for ignorance or her words to be a lie they'd all pretended was real since May.

"I know," Blaine said simply. "Kurt doesn't take back his promises, Rachel. He's– his mind is set."

Rachel hugged herself and stared between Blaine and where Kurt was hidden in their room. Telling her what he'd hoped Kurt would have explained wasn't how he'd wanted to end this day or any day.

"I'm just–I can't," she sniffled and hurried off to her room as Santana rolled the front door open.

"Doesn't look like much of a wedding planning party," she said as she set her purse down on the kitchen table. "Aren't you two picking whatever awful dresses we have to wear?"

When Blaine didn't say anything, Santana sat down across from him. "What's up with you? You look like Kurt can't get it up for you anymore."

"That's– Santana," Blaine growled. "We're done for the day."

Santana stared at him for a long time until Blaine got up.

"Just check on Rachel, would you?" That was all he needed to say for Santana to stop teasing and eyeing him. Those words were all it took for her to get it.

He headed to his and Kurt's room, hoping his fiancé had had enough time to cool off some. Anytime the subject was mentioned he shelled himself off from all of them.

"Kurt?"

His fiancé was laying down on the bed, facing towards the window and away from him. Blaine eased in behind him and slid his arm under Kurt's and around his chest. He rubbed his fingers over Kurt's heart for what felt like hours until Kurt spoke.

"It's never going to be fair, is it?" Kurt murmured. "I want them all there to see us and they won't be. Not Finn or my mother or Finn's dad. I want our babies to have another uncle and grandma and grandpa. God, I don't even know him and I want him there. Isn't that weird?"

"No," Blaine said quietly. "It's honest."

"They were supposed to argue over me," Kurt said suddenly. "Rachel and Finn would get engaged and then break up and get engaged and then break up over and over again. Six years from now when we're thinking about having a baby and Rachel's done all of her Broadway dreams she'd finally go back to Ohio to see him and they'd really get engaged and then they'd both ask me to be their best man. And then they'd fight over me until Puck showed up and told Finn that he was his wingman so the spot was his by bro code right, and that I was stuck handling Berry. And Finn would go with it, but when neither of them were looking he'd give me that stupid, dorky almost wink because he couldn't ever just close one eye at a time, and I'd know I was still his best man."

Kurt sniffled as Blaine held him tighter. "That would have been something to see."

"It still should be. He's my best man," Kurt said finally. "He's always going to be my best man."

"Okay," Blaine whispered as he kissed Kurt's temple. "Okay."

* * *

Blaine eased the door shut behind him and glanced around quickly. Nobody but Kurt, just as he'd hoped. Burt and Carole were out welcoming the last guests, the ladies were off in their own room finishing up, and Blaine had sent Sam to deal with a made up, bow tie stealing super villain out in the parking lot. He crept over towards Kurt as his almost-husband adjusted his tie.

"Hey, handsome," Blaine greeted as he flung his arms around Kurt's shoulders.

"Blaine, oh my– you shouldn't be here!" Kurt squeaked as Blaine gave him a wet, loud kiss on his cheek.

"I wanted to see you before," Blaine said. "See how you're doing." As soon as he stroked Kurt's cheek, Kurt shrunk a little. "Hey, it's okay."

"I just wish they were here," Kurt said quietly. "I never even thought _I'd_ get here, but I'm glad I'm here with you."

"So am I," Blaine said. He hugged Kurt tightly and pressed their foreheads together until Kurt shut his eyes and sighed. "They're here in a way, even if it's not how we'd like."

"I love you," Kurt whispered, "so much it scares me enough to marry you."

Blaine laughed. "Is that the only reason?"

"Is there a better one?"

"Because we both want to be scared and happy and difficult and wonderful together. Because there's so much we still need to do, together and on our own. Maybe drag a few kids into it, see what they make of themselves," Blaine said with a smile.

Kurt gave his little squeaky laugh before a frown settled on his lips. "I miss him. He should be here instead of that stand with his picture. Messing everything up, dancing his stupid chicken dance while I pretend we're not in the same family."

"I know," Blaine said. He kissed the tear that ran down Kurt's cheek. "They both should be."

Kurt turned in his arms and hugged him tightly for a long time. "Go on," he said finally. "Go, before Rachel or my dad catch you. We've got a wedding in twenty minutes and I fully intend on being Mr. and Mr. Hummel-Anderson when I stripe you out of that suit tonight."

Blaine beamed and kissed him one more time before he hurried out.

* * *

"I can't believe we're having a little boy," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's skin. He draped himself across Kurt's chest and stared over at their newly built crib. It wasn't impressively large or the most expensive thing on the market, but it was beautiful and soft and fit just perfectly in the bay window corner of their room.

"Yeah," Kurt said as he played with Blaine's hair and looked over at it, too. "I think we did a good job on it."

"Only took six hours and a few bruised fingers," Blaine reminded him.

"It's not _my_ fault you can't use a hammer."

Kurt giggled as Blaine bit him lightly on the chest. Then the fell silent again, looking over at the wooden crib, the mobile dangling over it and the fresh, new bedding waiting for their little one in just a month's time. It scared Kurt how fast seven years had gone, how quickly they'd gone from teenagers with wedding rings to husbands in a cramped, argument-causing studio apartment, always disagreeing over dishes and who checked the mail last to now.

"We still need to think up a name," Blaine said after a while. "I mean, Charlotte is a beautiful name, but I think we need, y'know, like a boy's name for him."

"Well, if you'd stop suggesting dumb ones we would," Kurt said tersely. He'd tensed like he always did at the thought of naming a baby boy. It was an idea that had haunted him for almost a decade because his dreams had betrayed him long ago. There was only one name that echoed in the corners and crevasses of his mind and he didn't think he could bare to utter it after keeping it silent for so long.

"What about Elliot?" Blaine asked. "As a middle name. I know you've already settled on a first name, Kurt, and I don't need to hear you saying it in your sleep to know that."

Kurt moved to roll away, but Blaine pressed his arm into the bed on Kurt's other side and raised himself up to stare into Kurt's eyes. "I hear you sometimes," he added. "I get up to go to the bathroom and I hear you whisper it while you smile in your sleep."

"I- I don't know if I can," Kurt said. But his mind had already chosen for him. He'd been calling their baby Finn since the day they'd found out it was a boy.

"It's okay," Blaine said quietly. He leaned down and kissed Kurt slowly. "It's okay to still hurt and miss him and to give our son a name without consulting me."

Kurt laughed a little as he started to cry. "It's– there's no other name I could even think of. Every time you bring it up or someone asks, it's like I have to catch my tongue with tongs to keep from saying it."

"It's a wonderful name for a wonderful little boy," Blaine told him as he stroked Kurt's cheek. "Well?"

Kurt nodded a little and looked at the crib once more. "Elliot's nice for a middle name. Finn Elliot Hummel-Anderson."

Blaine smiled gently and kissed him again. "We'll call Carole tomorrow and ask her permission, okay?"

"Yeah, good."

Kurt smiled as he rested his cheek on Blaine's chest and gently traced the soft brown hair on Finn's head.

"He's so little," he whispered. "Gosh, I knew newborns were tiny, but he's just so… _tiny_."

Blaine chuckled a little, his chest raising Kurt's head and Finn up and down as their baby slept peacefully. It was his first night home with them, and despite everything they'd said and everything they'd read, neither of them could bare to put him in the crib five feet away.

Kurt traced his fingertip over Finn's nose, his little drooly lips, his eyelashes fanned across his tan cheeks. He was perfect, absolutely, beautifully perfect, more so than Kurt had ever dreamed up.

"It's so strange," he heard Blaine say, the sound vibrating through his chest into Kurt's head. "I always thought love was something that sort of filled up around you slowly, like with you and me, but this is so full I think I might burst. Looking at him, it's just instant, you know?"

And Kurt did know. It had clicked on like a lamp when the power came back, sudden and abrupt and wonderfully relieving. There were no more monsters lurking in every space his eyes couldn't perceive, no more jolting, jittery tingles, just this sudden, blinding warmth filling him as he looked over their son's sleeping face.

"We really should put him in the crib," he murmured as Blaine yawned and tightened his arms around each of them. "This is a horrible habit to start. Even Dad says so."

"Mmm, live and learn," Blaine mumbled as he started to drift off. "Love you."

"Love you," Kurt replied, he inched closer to Finn and kissed his forehead. "And I love you most of all."


	7. Ghost

A/N: I'm goin' ghost! Sorry, I had to. I've been wanting to say that since I wrote this. No, this isn't a Danny Phantom crossover. But it is possibly my favorite of the 26 prompts. So **warnings and triggers** for mentions of character death, implied character death of a rather major variety. Basically it's one of the boys and they're a ghost now.

Oh, there's a song for this one, too! It's called I Giorni. You can find it on youtube!

Enjoy! Tomorrow is **History!**

**Ghost**

"Dear, I still don't think he's ready for this."

Blaine moved past his mother and set down the piano bench in front of the piano. It was the last piece of his belongings from the old house, now moved into the basement-bedroom of their new one. After living just outside of Westerville for over twenty years, his parents had finally retired and moved out to Lima. For the most part it was a small town surrounded by farms, but there were a few little suburbs in the main town. His parents had picked an older house there, one that had been half the price of the others in the neighborhood.

"Mom, I'll be fine down here," Blaine said. He sat on the bench and adjusted it until he was set up perfectly. Finally, he had the piano, that his parents had bought long before his brother was born and never used, in his room. He could play at all hours of the day and night now. "I won't wake you up playing early on the weekends and it gives you all of that space upstairs."

"Come on, Cassie," his father said as he carried a tray of drinks and sandwiches down. "This'll be great for him. Cooper never comes out to visit anyway, so this would just sit empty. Blaine's almost seventeen. Another year and he'll be away at school. Having him in the basement will help all of us start to adjust to that transition."

"Well," his mother frowned around the room and checked the lock on the one small window. "I have always wanted a formal sitting room. And I can use that extra room upstairs for an office."

Blaine's father passed out the glasses of lemonade and sandwiches. They ate at the piano and then Blaine was left alone to start unpacking.

* * *

After six hours of putting his books and clothes away in their new places, Blaine took a shower and got ready for bed. It was unusually quiet when he stepped into his room. At their old house, his bedroom had been on the top floor across the hall from his parents. There'd always been some sort of sound – the air conditioning, water in the pipes, the television in his parents' room. But down here, in this dim, cozy basement-bedroom there was only silence and his own breathing. It was a little eerie, but Blaine shrugged into his pajama top and got into bed.

As soon as he turned his bed lamp out, Blaine laid very still. It was going to take some getting used to, being down here in a cement basement all by himself. He stared up into the darkness overhead and listened. But there was still only silence. There was nothing and nobody here but himself.

Once his eyes adjusted, Blaine rolled onto his side and shut his eyes. It was no different than his room at home. Being uncomfortable was normal in a new house, a new room. He was just calming himself down enough to drift off when a key on the piano chimed faintly. His body went rigid at the sound, his breath clinging to his throat. He must be imagining things. He'd done that almost constantly as a boy. It might have even been an old key stuck. The highest C-sharp had been touchy lately.

_Bing!_

This time Blaine sat bolt upright in bed. A different note had chimed. It wasn't just a stuck key. Terrified, Blaine stared over at the piano, but nobody was there. Just the beautiful piano he'd grown up playing on. Carefully, Blaine turned the light on and moved over towards the piano.

_Bing!_

No, the key wasn't stuck. He played a few chords and stared around his new room. Maybe so much loading and then unloading in the summer heat had scrambled his brains a bit. There was nobody in here but himself. But still, he had to be sure. He looked up the stairs, checked under them, all around the main room, the closet, the bathroom (even behind the shower curtain that was pulled shut), under his bed, and then the window to see that it was locked. Nothing was out of place.

Blaine climbed back into bed, turned the light out, and shut his eyes. He was being stupid. Maybe he'd been playing for so long that his ears would ring with the sound for the rest of his life.

_ Bing!_

Blaine flinched and pulled his covers up higher. It was just his imagination.

_ Ba-da-bing!_

There was nothing weird going on. No, nothing out of place.

The piano rang out with a powerful A-chord and Blaine bolted upstairs and out of sight.

* * *

"Blaine? Dear, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His mother was staring over him, looking concerned. Blaine blinked a few times and tried to remember where he was and what had happened.

"Blaine?"

"Oh, I was washing my bedding last night and must have fallen asleep," Blaine invented as he recalled the creepy piano. "Is it morning already?"

His mother smiled and kissed his cheek. "It's probably all wrinkled now if you left it in," she said. "I'll go–"

"No! I– I mean, I'll finish it. I've got to know how to do this stuff soon enough, Mom," Blaine said. He folded up the blanket he'd pulled from the back of the couch and pretended to duck into the laundry room. Once his mother was out of sight, he eased the door to his room open and peered down the dim stairs. Even in mid-day sunlight his room was dim.

"Hello?"

Nothing and nobody greeted him. Blaine slowly made his way downstairs and found his room just as he'd left it. Still nervous, Blaine changed and went back upstairs for the rest of the day.

* * *

For the next week, Blaine slept with the lights on. He bought a padlock and fitted it to the piano key cover and only opened it for his own playing. Still, strange things happened when he was out with his friends during the day. The piano remained untouched, but the books on his desk were stacked in alphabet order when he got back from Warblers practice on Monday. Tuesday gave him a color-coded organization to his bow tie drawer. His shoes were all neatly paired up on the floor of his walk-in closet when he got in late Wednesday night, and by Saturday his entire closet was organized by colors and patterns.

It was alarming but nice, too. He'd always tried to keep his own clothing organized by color, but a week into it he always gave up and put things wherever they would fit. On Sunday, Blaine stayed in and played all day. In another week school would be starting up and he needed to be ready to play for all of his music classes and clubs.

"Blaine?" His father's head ducked around the bend in the stairs. "It's one in the morning. Time to call it quits for the night."

"But–"

"You can play all day tomorrow, too," his father said. "Go on, bed time for both of us."

Blaine yawned as his father forced him off the bench and into bed.

"Goodnight."

"Night, Dad."

Blaine fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by the chime of the piano. He groaned and tried to go back to sleep. But it chimed again, several notes in a sixteenth-note rhythm. Blaine rubbed his eyes and stared over at the piano blearily. Even in the dark he could see someone sitting on the bench, but they were faint and bright. He squinted and sat up.

"Hello?"

The piano gave a horrible screech, like someone had smacked their entire arm across the keys. Even as Blaine flung his blankets off himself, the figure sped away from the piano and faded into the far wall.

"No, come back!"

But there was only silence. Blaine pressed his hands to the wall helplessly. A ghost. That was who was behind all of the strange things happening in his room. He called out to it for a long time, tried playing the piano in the dark to bring it back into the room, but nothing worked.

* * *

"Dad? Did the realtor say why our house was so much cheaper than the others?" Blaine asked at breakfast the next morning.

His dad took a sip of his coffee and frowned down at the newspaper. "Hmm?"

"The house," Blaine repeated. "Did the realtor say why it was so cheap?"

"Old structural damage," his mother said from her seat at the head of the table. "There was a fire here about a decade ago. They restructured almost the entire house, put it back on the market but nobody stayed long. Margaret didn't say why. Renters usually don't stay long, dear."

"Oh," Blaine said. He finished his oatmeal and thought over what he'd heard. Was that ghost from the fire? Was it the reason people kept leaving? Surely he wasn't the only one to have encountered it since the fire a decade ago. "May I be excused?"

"Of course. More piano practice?"

Blaine nodded as he stood up. "I need to be ready for next week."

Again, Blaine played all day. He went upstairs for dinner and then a movie with his friends at the theater in town. When he got home the house was silent. He looked around the dark living room, kitchen, the dining room. Nothing had moved in here since they'd finished unpacking. His room seemed to be the only one where it was happening. He grabbed a snack and then sat outside his bedroom door to wait and listen. This ghost, whoever it was, seemed to only play in the silence of the night.

After half an hour, when Blaine was starting to fall asleep against the door frame, the piano began to play. It was slow and bumpy at first, full of mistakes and pauses, but whoever was playing had had some type of lessons. Blaine sat and listened, carefully open his door and easing down the stairs. I Giorni. That was what the ghost was playing. It was a beautiful song Blaine had learned a few years into his lessons and to this day it was still one of his favorites. Only last year he'd played it at a concert for school.

He paused as the song began to even out, the notes becoming stronger and truer, more steady. Blaine peered around the bend in the stairs. The same faint person was there, only this time he, for it was a boy his age, was more solid in appearance. He was cloudy from head to toe, but little stretches of darkness and brightness gave his features and clothes definition. His hair was styled up towards the ceiling, his cheekbones were high and sharp. The sight surprised Blaine, but the boy was alarming in how natural his beauty was.

The boy continued to play, a smile blooming on his face as he slowly rediscovered his talent. When he finished, he laughed, bright and happy. Blaine was mesmerized.

"That was beautiful."

The boy flew back from the piano, his legs passing right through the bench as he headed towards that same wall.

"No, wait! Please!" Blaine called as he hurried down the stairs. "I just want to thank you and talk!"

Right at the wall, the boy paused, one hand sinking into the cement as he turned to stare anxiously at Blaine.

"My name's Blaine," he said as he stopped a few feet from the ghost boy. "You play beautifully. I Giorni is one of my favorites."

"You know it?"

Blaine beamed as the boy turned and looked him over. "Yeah, I learned to play it when I was little. I started lessons when I was three because I wouldn't leave the piano alone. My parents bought it just for a show piece, but I spent all day at it, trying to figure it out."

The ghost boy nodded and floated down until his feet touched the floor. Blaine looked his clothing over and was surprised to see a very fashion-forward outfit. It certainly didn't ring of the late nineties, but it was modern.

"Are– did you live here?"

The ghost nodded again. "My parents and me. I keep thinking it was only yesterday, but my dad's gone and there's been so many people coming and going."

Upstairs the floor creaked. Someone was headed to the kitchen. The ghost boy moved swiftly towards the wall. "I have to go."

"But– at least tell me your name. Or come back tomorrow night."

The boy stared at him, and Blaine swore his cloudy eyes sparkled. "Kurt. My name's Kurt."

"Blaine? Are you still awake?"

The boy disappeared into the wall as his father descended the stairs. "You forgot to close the door."

"Sorry, I was– meant to go get a snack before bed," Blaine lied as he stared at the wall.

His father disappeared back upstairs and closed the door. Blaine patted the wall carefully, but it didn't yield to his touch. "Please, come back, Kurt."

* * *

It was three nights before Blaine saw Kurt again. Just as he was climbing into bed, the ghost boy floated through the wall and called to him.

"Blaine? Are you awake?"

Blaine sat up and reached for the light.

"Don't," Kurt called. "It's too bright. I don't like it."

"Okay. I didn't think you'd come back."

Kurt floated down to his feet and shrugged. "Nobody's ever talked to me before. It's hard to remember how long anything is."

"Do you want to play?

Kurt beamed at him and hurried to the piano. After watching for several minutes, Blaine joined him. It was the closest he'd ever been to Kurt and he was surprised to find that Kurt gave off heat instead of a chill. They played through a few songs together, surprised to see their catalogues were so similar, but by the end they were laughing and smiling at each other.

"You're the nicest boy I've ever met," Kurt said as Blaine shut the piano cover.

Blaine shook his head. "I'm sure there were plenty of great boys when you were alive."

Kurt frowned like he was trying to remember something he'd never been a part of it. "No, I don't think so. They were only mean. They set the house on fire."

"They– is that how you, um."

Kurt suddenly floated up and across the room. "My dad made it out. I remember him coming back, to find me. He got me through the window and climbed out, but that's all I remember. I must have died just as he saved me. My mother, she died of burns. I saw it in the newspaper when I woke up here. My dad only came back to help sell it the first time. He couldn't see me."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." Blaine wanted to get up and hug him, but he knew he couldn't. He'd only fall right through Kurt if he tried. "That's horrible. Are you stuck as a ghost forever?"

"I don't know. I should go. You need to sleep."

"No, it's still summer. It's fine."

But Kurt was already disappearing through the wall. In a moment, he was gone and Blaine was left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Blaine almost asked his parents more about the fire, but changed his mind over breakfast. The more questions he asked, the more reasons they'd have to worry about him. Instead, he took his mother's car to the library and started looking for information. It took almost a week, mostly because school had started and ate up so much of his time. But he finally found articles about the fire on Northampton Avenue and how the mother and son had both died. The man, Burt Hummel, had been hospitalized for smoke-inhalation and burns, but would be fine.

After that Blaine couldn't find anything about the man. He searched all over the library and the newspapers, but nothing else ever showed up. As the weeks went by, Kurt became more friendly. As long as he didn't mention his death, then Kurt was all smiles and cheerful. He seemed so thrilled to have a friend and Blaine was glad, too. Kurt knew about ties and scarves and helped him pick out his clothes every morning. He liked things none of the other boys' did and as they played their way through Blaine's piano books, Kurt opened up more about his old life.

He told Blaine about going to McKinley, the local public high school, how the jocks had bullied him, and his only friend in the world had been a diva named Mercedes. There had been tea parties with his parents as a boy, trips to the park with his mother, his father teaching him all about cars at his shop.

"He had a shop in town," Kurt was saying as Blaine played through a few chord progressions. "Hummel Tire and Lube. Mom was so proud of him. I remember that. She loved how happy he was with his shop. I spent a lot of the summer there. He showed me how to change tires and oil and rebuild engines. I told him I was gay there. When I was thirteen. I'll never forget that, even if I'm a ghost forever and can't remember my own name. 'I know', he said. 'I've known since you were three. All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels.' I got them, too. They were covered in purple sparkles."

Blaine smiled and tentatively reached for Kurt's hand on the piano keys. His fingers sunk right down into Kurt's. The first time he'd done it, he'd yelped at the sudden heat around his hand, but Kurt had sighed happily. He could feel the touch, he said. It wasn't quite like it was flesh to flesh, but it was solid and real enough for him to sense.

"He sounds like an amazing dad," Blaine said as Kurt smiled over at him. "My parents, well, they weren't thrilled when I told them. They're okay with it now, but they're still not the best with a lot of it. My mom cried for a week when she looked at me because she thought she'd never have grandkids."

Kurt shook his head. "That's silly. You can adopt or have a woman help you and your husband someday."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded and changed the subject. "You said your dad had a shop, right? Hummel Tire and Lugs?"

"Lube," Kurt said, his cloudy cheeks going transparent. Blaine had slowly figured out that that was how he blushed. "Hummel Tire and Lube. It was down by the bank and the roller rink. It's probably gone by now. He left me here and moved somewhere else."

"If he'd known, Kurt, he'd never have left."

As always, Kurt shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. So do you," Blaine said. "Listen, I should get some sleep before classes. Tomorrow same time?"

Kurt agreed and they said their goodnights.

In the morning, Blaine got up early and drove down to the spot Kurt had said the shop was at. On the corner, the remains of an old sign still hung up high.

HUM EL TI E & LU E

Blaine stared up at it sadly, but stopped at the corner and got out. The shop was still a garage, but it was mostly gutted from what he could see through the dusty windows. There was a large For Rent sign hung in the shop's doorway. He was really gone then. Tracking him beyond Lima would be almost impossible. Blaine jotted down the number of the For Rent sign and looked around the street. A few other little shops that weren't open yet, a gas station on the next block, a bank, and a diner across the street.

It was a long shot, but Blaine hurried across the street and entered the little retro diner. There was only one customer, an old man at the counter. Blaine headed towards the counter and asked for the owner. A tall woman appeared a few minutes later.

"Hi, um, this is going to sound strange, but I was wondering if you knew the man who used to own the tire shop across the street. Burt Hummel."

The woman eyed him suspiciously and wiped her hands on her apron. "Burt? Yeah, moved away 'bout ten years ago. Nasty house fire. Lizzie and Kurt both gone because of it. They were always in here on Saturdays. Watched their boy grow up. Sweetest kid. Shame what happened."

"Do you know where he moved to?" Blaine asked hopefully. "I've been trying to find him. My parents bought his old house and there was a few of his old things in the basement." It was a lie and the woman seemed to know it.

"I rented the house as a favor to him when he first left," she said, looking him over. "Funny noises down in the basement. Like someone crying."

Blaine held her gaze and finally she sighed and pulled out her notepad. "He moved west, out towards Columbus. Last address I knew was this."

She scribbled it down and handed Blaine the paper.

"Thank you," Blaine said. He pocketed it and tried not to hug her. "Thank you so much."

After school Blaine drove the two hours to Columbus and stopped outside a small house. It was a small brick cube with a yard full of trees and bushes. They were all well tended and two cars sat in the driveway. Kurt's dad had to be home. If he was, if he could convince him, then maybe Kurt would move on. He'd lose his best friend, but Kurt would have peace finally.

After twenty minutes of arguing with his nerves, Blaine climbed out and knocked on the door. A stocky woman answered.

"Hi, my name's Blaine Anderson. I was looking for Burt Hummel."

"Burt?" she frowned at him, but called for the man over her shoulder. "If this is about the part-time job, he's–"

"No, it's not about a job, ma'am," Blaine assured her. "It's, well, it's important and kind of secret."

A man appeared behind her then, taller and with a baseball cap on his head. His eyes were deep set, more so than Blaine thought possible and he had a thick scar on his neck. A burn scar. Blaine swallowed and addressed him.

"Sir, my name's Blaine Anderson and well, my parents just bought a house on Northampton Avenue in Lima," he said as Burt frowned. "I took the bedroom in the basement and–"

"I don't have anything to do with Lima anymore," Burt said his voice raspy and harsh. Some burns were more than skin deep. "I haven't been back in ten years and I never will."

He moved to close the door, but Blaine stuck his foot in the way. "Sir, please. It's about your son. He's still there. He's–"

"No!" Burt snapped. He slammed the door on Blaine's foot until he pulled it back. Wincing and with an aching foot, Blaine stood on the doorstep and knocked again. He couldn't give up. He had to try for Kurt.

"Sir, please! I know this is crazy, but he's still there," Blaine called through the door. He racked his mind for something to pull Burt back, and found himself back in one of Kurt's stories. "When he was eight, he wanted an elaborate purple tiara for his birthday and when he wore it to school some kid called Karofsky called him a fairy and gave him his first black eye! And when he was three he asked for a sensible pair of heels for his birthday and that's when–"

The door opened slowly. "When I knew he was gay." Burt pulled the door open and looked out at the street. "How did you know that?"

"Because he's still there," Blaine repeated. "He's, like, a ghost or something. I don't know how else to explain it, but I see him every night. We talk and play my piano together and I think he just wants to see you. It might help him move on from there."

Burt yanked him inside by his jacket and finally let him go at a couch. Blaine sat and the woman who had opened the door helped Burt into a chair across from him.

She looked at him tearfully. "Are you– this can't be real."

"He's there," Blaine insisted. "He's been there all along. Since the day you went back and got him out of the window. I promise he's there. He's the nicest person I've ever met, sir."

Burt sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand as the woman grabbed a box of tissues. "And Lizzie? Is she there, too?"

"Not that I've seen," Blaine said. "It's just Kurt. He scared me half to death that first night. But he couldn't stay away from the piano. He loves to play."

"I used to catch him at all hours of the night," Burt said as he was handed a few tissues.

Blaine stayed silent as the other two talked. He learned that Burt had remarried only last year. The woman was Carole, his wife, and she, too, had lost her son only three years ago.

"I'd really like for you to come back with me and see him," Blaine said after he joined them for dinner. "I know he wants to, and maybe it'll help him move on to whatever's next. He's been so lonely down there by himself for so long."

Burt and Carole looked at each other and finally Burt spoke.

"Okay."

* * *

Burt and Carole followed him back to Lima. It was almost midnight when they pulled into the driveway and Blaine was glad to see the lights in his parents' room were off. He hurried inside with Burt and Carole.

"Blaine? Is that you?"

"Yeah, I got caught in traffic. There was an accident, so I stayed with Wes for dinner," Blaine called up to them.

"Okay. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Blaine closed the door and led Burt and Carole to the door of his room. Carole had Burt around the waist and by the elbow. He was pale and trembling.

"He's probably downstairs waiting for me," Blaine said. He opened his bedroom door and a few piano notes trickled up the stairs to them. "I've been teaching him new songs."

He started down the stairs, but the added noise of Burt and Carole made the piano music stop.

"Kurt? Kurt, it's me. I've got someone to see you. I promise it's okay."

He hurried down the last steps as Carole and Burt took their time. Kurt was halfway through the wall, peering towards him anxiously.

"I'm sorry I didn't give you any warning, but I thought it would take longer."

"What?" Then Kurt caught sight of his father and Carole on the stairs. "Dad? Blaine, that's–"

"Yeah, I found your dad."

Kurt floated over towards him, his body shifting from cloudy to transparent to silvery. Burt and Carole stepped off the final stair and looked around. "Is he here?" Burt asked hopefully. "Kurt?"

"He's– sir, he's right here," Blaine said. He looked from Kurt to his father, only standing a few feet apart. "Can't you see him?"

Both of the adults shook their heads and Kurt started to cry.

"It's just like last time," he said miserably. "He can't see me. He'll never be able to see me again."

"No, we'll figure it out," Blaine insisted as Kurt started to float away. "Kurt, please."

He reached for Kurt's hand and to his surprise his own didn't sink into Kurt's, but caught it and held it. Behind him Carole and Burt gasped. Kurt paused and as Blaine watched he glowed brighter and looked a little more solid.

"Kurt? Buddy, you're here. You're really here."

Kurt turned and found his father staring right at him. "Daddy?"

Burt hobbled forward out of Carole's grasp. "Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"No, it wasn't your fault, Dad," Kurt said. He reached for Burt and Blaine watched as their hands joined, too. "I missed you. It's been so lonely here until Blaine moved in."

"I never meant to leave you," Burt said through his tears. He choked a little. "Kurt, buddy, you can go now. Go be with your mother and someday I'll be there with you, okay?"

"Will she be with us, too?" Kurt eyed Carole uncertainly. "Did you move on?"

Burt looked at Carole and bit his lip. "This is Carole. We got married last year," he said in a rush. "I still love you and your mother, I do, but I–"

"I'm happy for you," Kurt said and he beamed at them. "He forgets to change his socks in the winter because he wears them to bed," he told Carole. "And he loves chicken lasagna and going to the lake in the summer. And he's the best dad in the world if you two ever have any kids."

Carole nodded and smiled at him. "I- if you meet a tall boy about your age named Finn wherever you go from here, that's my son. Send him my love, will you?"

Kurt nodded. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, bud. Go on and be at peace."

Kurt nodded as his father stepped back and released his hand. He turned to Blaine and beamed. "Thank you," he said quietly. "You've been better than any friends I had in life." Then he leaned in and kissed Blaine on the lips. Blaine shut his eyes and when he opened them Kurt was gone.

"Thank you," Burt said through his tears. He pulled Blaine into a tight hug. Blaine only nodded as they continued to thank him and said goodbye for the day. They invited him to dinner the following week and Blaine accepted. After he saw them out, he changed and climbed into bed. His room was silent again, much like he'd thought it would be that first night. Dark and silent and suddenly empty.

Blaine turned the light off and stared at the wall Kurt had always appeared through, but it remained dark and solid. He sighed and tried not to tear up as he stretched his hands towards the ceiling. But the sight of his right hand, the one that had held Kurt's, startled him. His hand was glowing faintly, like there were little stars tattooed across his skin. He looked it over and traced the outline of Kurt's handprint on his skin. As he touched each star they grew brighter and warmer.

Blaine smiled and pressed his hand to his chest. The stars continued to glow as the years passed, sometimes dimmer, sometimes brighter, until Blaine was old and dying. With every day that past in his eighty-seventh year, one more star flickered out every night, until finally, one was left. He went to bed in the room he'd shared with his husband for four decades, and woke up to the soft tune of a piano playing.

"Are you going to sleep all night, Blaine?" Kurt's bright, happy voice called. "I miss my duet partner."

He sat up and looked around. It was his old bedroom from his childhood. Kurt, solid and colorful and real was sitting at the piano in the corner, waiting for him.


	8. History

A/N: History today. Another crossover: Doctor Who. Focused much more on New Who since I haven't watched Old Who yet. So Doctor!Kurt and Blaine is a surprise. Also note, some of the Doctor's history has changed in this, like, the what regeneration he is when the Time War starts and such. Heck, this could potentially be a parallel universe of the main one on the show.

For those who have never seen Doctor Who, I think you can still read this without needing any prior knowledge of the show since I've altered things into a different time line. You should be able to enjoy it!

**Ironman** is tomorrow!

**History**

"Just you and me now, Sexy," Kurt called as he swung the TARDIS doors shut behind himself and hurried up the ramp. "Oh, where to go first. It's been a while since we've visited the Ood. Or there's New Earth. Or Raascox Three has that planet wide roller coaster I've been meaning to have a two week ride on."

He hopped and twirled around the controls, flicking one, twisting another, and finally pausing to settle on a date and location. The roller coaster would be a fun adventure for him. Just him now. Only him. No Rachel or Mercedes or Santana and Dani. Only the Doctor left in the TARDIS. Just one Time Lord running on forever.

"Raascox Three, here I–"

The entire ship shuddered and jerked. Kurt toppled to the glass plating as they took off, but he had the sudden feeling it wasn't for where he'd wanted to go. It never was.

"No! No no no no! I wanted the fifty-first century and roller coasters," he shouted as he grabbed the console and climbed to his feet. 2001, London. Why did he always have to end up in London? "No, that's not where we're going, dear. I–"

"Help! Make the noises stop!"

Kurt froze. The TARDIS shuddered and shook as it journeyed through the time vortex. A voice was calling through the computer to him, a young boy, probably no older than ten. How could a human child be reaching him so far away through time and space? It had happened a few times before, of course, but those humans had been connected to aliens or been disguised as human. Another mystery then. Adventures would have to wait for when the universe didn't demand him any longer.

"Make the drums stop, please! I'm scared!"

The voice fizzled out, but Kurt shivered. Drums. Something that had been a presence in his life since he was eight. Since the day he and the Master had looked into the time vortex for the first time. The Master. He did his best not to think about him.

As the TARDIS's break announced his arrival, Kurt looked over his console anxiously. He should leave. A boy hearing drums was too close, too familiar. It was probably only the sound of his own heart beating in fear and thundering through his ears. Nothing to worry about, but how had he contacted the TARDIS at such a distance? Just one little human boy.

Someone knocked softly on the main door. Once, twice, a third, then a fourth. Kurt shivered at the sound like it meant something to him he didn't understand yet. But that was ridiculous. If he didn't understand it then who could? He was the Doctor after all.

"H- hello? Are– this is a _phone box?_"

Kurt tugged the door open and poked his head out. "It's a Police Box, can't you read? Police Box." He jabbed his finger over his head. A young boy in his pajamas was standing in front of him, mouth open wide. As far as Kurt could tell he was around seven or eight with frizzy dark curls and sharp little eyebrows. "Ah, this would be your bedroom then. Very nice. A space theme, too? You're clever."

"Nuh uh, I'm Blaine. Who are you?"

"Well of course you are," Kurt agreed as he leaned down and looked the boy in the eye. Nothing strange in his vision or appearance or – Kurt took a big sniff – smell. Simply, ordinarily human. "I'm the Doctor."

Blaine squinted at him and tilted his head. "You don't look like a doctor. Where's your funny white coat? I like your bow tie!"

"Ah, I had it taken to a tailor for the evening. Needed to be taken out in the shoulders a bit," Kurt invented. He tugged on his tie. It was the first time he'd worn one this regeneration. "It is rather nice. Does it look okay?"

"Yeah, it's super pretty," Blaine told him as he stood on his toes and tugged it. "I've always wanted a purple one with moons. Is your name really Doctor?"

"Yup, just call me the Doctor, okay? Now what seems to be the problem?"

"Why _the_ Doctor? You can't be the only one. I've met others," Blaine pressed. He peered around Kurt's waist and into the TARDIS. "Golly, your Police Box is huge!"

"It's– no peaking!" Kurt stepped into Blaine's little room and tugged the door shut. "I'm the only doctor you need. Blaine. Blaine, Blaine. I knew a man with that name once, but it was a secret."

"A secret? What d'you mean? How can a name be a secret?" Blaine rapped his knuckles on the TARDIS's door once more as Kurt pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started scanning. "Is that why I have to call you the Doctor? Is your name a secret, too?"

"Oh, you are clever, aren't you?" Kurt spun around and looked him over. The room was ordinary, too. Normal bed, bookshelves, piano, and glowing plastic stars on the ceiling. Everything in the house seemed perfectly, wonderfully human. Which, of course, explained absolutely nothing. "Lots of things can be secrets," Kurt finally said. "But they're only secrets until you start asking the right questions."

"So your name isn't the Doctor then," Blaine deduced. He took Kurt's hand and tugged him to his bed. "Are you going to make the drums stop?"

Kurt looked at Blaine for a few moments. Hopeful eyes, just like most humans, perhaps more inspired and hopeful than most, but there was a fear there that wasn't right. He picked Blaine up and sat him back against his pillows, then hopped up beside him.

"What sorts of drums?" he asked. Kurt scanned Blaine with his sonic screwdriver, but got nothing once again.

"The ones in here," Blaine said, tapping his forehead. "Boom, boom, boom, boom!" He patted his fingertips against Kurt's forehead in time with a beat. "It's like tri-p-let two, tri-p-let three! Like for music. I've made a bunch of songs to it on my piano. Here, I can–"

"No, no, no need to wake mommy and daddy," Kurt told him. Blaine sat back down, but his face had fallen and he started frowning until his eyebrows flat-lined. "Are your mommy and daddy here?"

"My– well, they're gonna be my new mommy and daddy," Blaine said quietly. "I've got a super big brother, too, but he's going off to uni soon."

Adoption. A little alarm bell when off in Kurt's head. He might not be human then, or been who knows where beforehand. Yet, his sonic screwdriver gave him nothing. Blaine was an ordinary human boy, maybe a little too anxious and with too much music in his head.

"Adopted mommy and daddy then. Have you been here long? On Earth?"

"On– _what_?"

Blaine stared at him in disbelief. Kurt quickly tucked Blaine in and laid down with him. Human or at least he thinks he's human. There was no harm in him.

"So these drums," Kurt pressed. "Are they an all the time thing or not?"

"Yeah, they're– huh, they're quiet now," Blaine sat up a little and looked around. "I only hear us now. But they've _always_ been there except with you here."

Kurt shivered. It was something the Master had once told him, years ago when it was just them. Right before the Time War had started and taken him from Kurt.

"Huh, well that's good. That's very good. Your little stars, they aren't very _real_, are they?"

Blaine laid back down beside him and looked up. There were dozens of them glowing dully on the ceiling, some big, some orange, a few shooting stars, but all very plastic. "They're like the ones we draw in school, but they aren't like the sky. I wanna see them _all_ someday."

"And you will. Do you know I've seen a lot of them? Yeah," Kurt pulled his sonic screwdriver back out and aimed it at the ceiling. Slowly the stars shifted and changed until they were all moving and forming into galaxies.

"Oh, wow! That's amazing!" Blaine beamed and started pointing up at the stars. "What's that one? Have you been there?"

"The Oodsphere. Quite a nice lot," Kurt told him.

For what felt like hours, Kurt answered Blaine's questions about planets and stars and what the universe was like. Kurt answered them as best as he could without giving too much away. Yet somehow, Blaine always seemed to be a step ahead of his lies and too clever to trick. After Kurt explained New Earth, Blaine yawned and snuggled down against him.

"I can't wait to see them all. Can I go with you in the morning?"

"I won't say no to such an enthusiastic companion," Kurt said, but what he didn't say was no. Someday, maybe, but for now Blaine was too young. "No more drums?"

Blaine yawned and his head dropped onto Kurt's shoulder. "No, just you."

Kurt tried not to flinch at the phrasing. How many times had his husband said that to him before he'd died? How many similarities could there be between these two?

"Get some sleep, Blaine." Kurt laid there under the realistic stars until Blaine fell asleep. Kurt slowly extracted himself and got up. There was nothing here to do. Just a scared boy with a new family that had somehow contacted his TARDIS. He didn't understand it, but he kind of did, too. There was a familiarity with this human boy that he'd been missing for centuries. It was a nice, but painful, reminder of what he'd always tried to outrun.

He looked around the little room once more, but there was still nothing. This didn't feel anything like other places had. No excitement or adventure or uncertainty. Nothing was out of place here. Just one boy reaching out and finding him. Kurt stepped around the bed and opened the TARDIS door, but something held him back before he could shut the door and leave Blaine's life forever.

Kurt fumbled with the snazzy bow tie around his neck and hurried back over to Blaine. He set it in the hand clutching at the pillow and paused. "It was nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm sure I'll see you again. Sooner for me than for you."

* * *

"Anna, I told you I can't go out tonight. I've got A-levels tomorrow and–"

Blaine groaned and held his phone away from his ear as she restarted her list of reasons he could come out and drink her under the table. He shuffled through the crowded street towards his Underground stop, but something caught his scarf and he was yanked backwards into an alley.

"What in the world? Who are– Doctor?"

But the man from his childhood couldn't speak. There was some bizarre Santa Claus putting him in a choke hold. Blaine hurried forward and helped him free.

"Are you– what is that? Is that one of those– those Ood you told me about?"

"I told you what?" The Doctor spun away from him and aimed his glowing thing at the Santa Claus. It fell over and shut down immediately. "Now, what where you saying? Do I know you– oh, pointy eyebrows. What was it again? Blaire? Blake? Blaine! That's the one."

"You're– but– you look exactly the same!"

"None of that right now. Come along, Blaine. That was the last of them."

Before he could say anything or talk to Anna still rambling on his phone, Blaine was being tugged down the alley to a familiar sight. He'd only seen it once, but the blue Police Box was something he'd never forget.

"It's your Police Box," Blaine said in awe. "The one that materialized in my bedroom."

"Yup, and we should get inside before anything else finds us."

The Doctor hurried in, dragging Blaine with him.

"Holy hell, this place is _huge!_"

"It's–" the Doctor waved a hand for him to continue as he started flipping controls at a console in the middle of the room.

"I already know it is," Blaine said bemusedly as he stopped at the Doctor's side. "I saw it as a boy, remember? It's been a lot longer for you than for me, hasn't it?"

"So you aren't going to say it?" The Doctor frowned at him. "I always like when people say it."

"What? That it's bigger on the inside?"

"Thank you, and yes, it's been, oh, about nintey-four years, I suppose. You're looking good, though. Young and charming and growing boomerangs over your eyes."

"They're eyebrows," Blaine snapped. "So what is this thing? It's clearly not a Police Box."

"TARDIS, long story. But the important thing is getting clear before that Santa self-destructs outside the door," the Doctor grabbed a handle on the console and fell silent like he was listening. Blaine heard it after a moment, too. Footsteps. Mechanical, heavy footsteps.

"Allons-y!"

The entire room shook and Blaine tumbled to the floor. His phone went sailing off the platform and something in his bag gave an unpleasant crunch. He hoped it was his bag of almonds and not his laptop. Asking his parents for a new one after he'd just gotten this for his birthday six weeks ago wouldn't go over well.

"Where are we going? Is this a _spaceship_?"

"Honestly, I thought you were clever as a boy. I think I was wrong."

"You're ridiculous," Blaine said. "Are you taking me somewhere? Like in space?"

The Doctor looked at something on the console and shrugged. "No idea. That's the fun part!"

"But my parents, my friends… they'll notice if I just disappear for the rest of my life," Blaine said, suddenly worried. " I can't just–"

"Oh, time and space. I travel through both. Forgot to mention that."

"Wait, this is a time machine?"

The words sparked something in Blaine that he wasn't ready for. But those words meant something to him, something that was like a nail digging into his cranium and splintering bone. He'd heard those words before, hadn't he? He must have, but it hadn't been the Doctor. It had been someone else he couldn't recall.

"–and you'll come along to see the Ood at least," the Doctor was saying. "Blaine? Ood?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

* * *

It was seven weeks before Blaine realized what had truly happened to his life. He'd left Earth, left his friends and family all behind in a different world and galaxy and time. Had they noticed he'd disappeared by now? Surely they must have despite the Doctor's assurances that he'd drop him right where he'd found him when they said goodbye. Blaine didn't see how that was possible, even though he'd been to Pompeii and five billion years into the future.

"Oh, let's go to Raascox Three. I've been meaning to go for a bit now," the Doctor was saying. They'd just found their way back from some crazy black hole and Devil thing Blaine could barely wrap his mind around. "They have a planet wide roller coaster! A two week trip. And there's a spa, too. You can wash that cement out."

"Can't we just have a quiet night?" Blaine asked, ignoring the jab at his hair gel. He yawned and sat down in one of the chairs on the platform. "I'm exhausted and I _still_ haven't gotten to have a good look at this place. Or pick a room. We've been everywhere else for weeks."

"Here? Well, we could, I guess," the Doctor paused and looked around like he'd never stopped to give the TARDIS a real glance. "Yeah, all right. Just for one night. You look like you need the sleep."

"Thanks, Doctor. Where's–"

"Down that hall, pick any door but the fourth on the left," he said. "That's the– well, just don't."

"Right," Blaine agreed. The warning, if he could call it that, would be heeded. He'd learned quickly not to go against the Doctor's warnings unless the situation was dire. Then he was simply lying to try to protect him from harm. "Good night."

He left the Doctor in the control room, fiddling or playing or whatever it was he was always doing in there by himself. Once he was down the hall with his retrieved bag, Blaine looked at the doors. He'd been to the mechanical room once, and the swimming pool by accident, but the idea of multiple bedrooms on this ship that never stopped seemed bizarre. There was always so much activity on the TARDIS it was hard to imagine there being places to rest. Blaine looked from one door to the next until one of the handles caught his eye. The fifth door on the right had an oddly flat knob with strange circular symbols on it. It looked like someone had replaced the door knob with a compass. Like so much about the TARDIS it was eerily familiar to him, like a displaced memory he'd left sitting on the Underground one day and never gotten back. Blaine looked over the knob and the words, though how he knew they were words and not some strange symbols or design, he couldn't say.

The room on the other side was dim, but well-furnished. It smelled strongly of jasmine and cinnamon. Blaine set his bag aside on a chair and crawled into the large, round bed. The mysteries tugging at his mind could wait another day.

* * *

"Blaine? Hello?"

Kurt opened door after door along the corridor of bedrooms. He skipped the nursery, the fourth of the left, because he hadn't opened that in centuries and never would again. Every room was empty until he reached the last one which was also his.

"Oh, is this really how it's going to be?"

Blaine was cocooned in his blankets, snuggled up tightly and drooling on one of his favorite pillows. It was almost cute but also too much. He hadn't mentioned his Blaine to this one. Not the Time Lord he'd promised his future and life to at the young age of twenty-one. They'd been so foolish to marry before their first regenerations, to in love to care about the changes they'd yet to undergo and the centuries that stood in their way.

"Budge over then," Kurt mumbled. He rolled Blaine to one side and crawled under beside him, feeling rather grumpy. "I'll have you know I haven't shared a bed in centuries. Not since– my husband was a blanket thief, too. It must go with the name. I miss that dirty Time Lord. Adventures, the entirety of space and time, they're more fun when you have someone to share it all with."

Kurt sighed and rolled to face Blaine and was met instead with his hazel stare.

"You had a husband? Like a Time Lord husband?" Blaine said in surprise.

Kurt looked at Blaine's collar instead of his eyes. "I hope you removed your shoes. I don't like shoes on my bed."

"Doctor," Blaine countered. "Did he– is he dead like the rest?"

For a long time, Kurt said nothing. Nobody had ever asked him questions like that before, nobody had ever known he was married since the rest of the Time Lords had died in the Time War. Soon Blaine, this Blaine, would be gone like the rest. Dead or trapped or leaving him behind for his own human life, such a fleeting but important existence. Then he'd be all alone and Blaineless once more.

"Doctor? I'm sorry."

"He died in the Time War. Right at the start. I- I tried to take myself back to the start, to save him. I got thrown out of the Time lock instead. If I hadn't…"

"You'd be dead, too," Blaine finished. His hand settled over Kurt's, his thumb brushing over Kurt's knuckles. The gesture made Kurt's throat tight, from old memories and new. How could this Blaine be so much like his own and not know anything about them?

"He's been gone a long time now," Kurt said quietly. "Sometimes I try to forget, to pretend my regeneration who was with him was someone else entirely."

"Regeneration?" Blaine repeated, but it wasn't puzzlement or confusion that Kurt caught in his voice. He looked at Blaine once again and saw his frown, the flat lines of his eyebrows, like there was something caught in the crank turning his mind. There was something there with Blaine, always some connection Kurt could never understand or explain away. It was almost like–

"You get to share it with me, though," Blaine said. He grabbed Kurt's hand and pressed it to his heart. "I could do this for the rest of my life. All I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do–"

Blaine froze, his voice stuttering and his eyebrows lowering again as he frowned. Like he was repeating something he couldn't remember, but that he still remembered knowing.

But Kurt knew how it ended, how it had always ended. If there was one thing his Blaine had said a hundred times over, every night before they slept and every evening when they were running wild from some new discovery, it was those words. He'd said it on their wedding day and every day since until he couldn't.

_All I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do, is my spend my life loving you._

And he had until the end of his life.

"We should get some sleep," Kurt said as he pulled his hand away. "We're going to need a lot of rest for Raascox Three's roller coaster."

"Good night, Doctor."

* * *

Blaine ended up sick for days after Kurt took him on the planet-wide roller coaster. Privately, Kurt though he was lucky to have survived it at all. Two weeks was nothing to him, but to a simple human body those forced had been too much.

Kurt kept their journeys simple and light after that. A royal ball on a crystal moon; lunch sitting at the doors of the TARDIS and watching a new planet form; another fun day trip to a planet of waterfalls; a toroid planet that had seemed impossible to Blaine even when they were walking on it.

"That is crazy, a planet shaped like a donut!" Blaine laughed as he shut the TARDIS door on the planet. "I can't believe gravity or anything can hold together a planet like that. Oh, I love this song!"

He started swaying to the jazzy tune and Kurt moved to shut it off. He'd started playing a lot of music since Blaine had joined him. There was something about having him onboard that made everything brighter. It also helped quiet the drumming that still pounded through Blaine's head.

"No, don't shut it off, Doctor," Blaine insisted. He grabbed Kurt's hand to stop him and then grinned playfully. "Come on, let's dance."

"Let's– oh, no. No, I don't dance," Kurt said quickly, but Blaine was pulling him in, one hand circling his waist and the other holding Kurt's left tightly. "I can't– dancing isn't my thing."

"Oh shut up," Blaine laughed. "Just sway with me. See? It's easy."

And it was, even after four centuries it was always simple to melt into Blaine's existence. Blaine held him tighter as the song changed and Kurt tried not to sigh and tuck his chin over Blaine's shoulder. It was too nice to be with Blaine like this. It was also too unfair to both of them for this to last much longer.

"I love spending time and space with you," Blaine mumbled as he rested his cheek on Kurt's shoulder. "I can barely imagine going back to how things were."

"I– it's wonderful having you here," Kurt said carefully. If he lost control right now, if he let one thing slip in Blaine's arms, he'd lose the little time they had left together. "The TARDIS is lonely with only one."

Blaine leaned back in his arms and beamed. There was a radiance in Blaine's smile that choked Kurt up and took him right back to his wedding night. He'd made his Blaine dance with him in this control room back then. They'd danced for hours and hours until their feet hurt and they'd been consumed with their passion.

Kurt was so caught up in his memory he didn't notice Blaine leaning back in until his lips brushed his. It was a soft, chaste kiss, almost no more than a peck, but it felt like Kurt's lungs had shriveled in his chest.

"I– that wasn't–"

Blaine was silenced by Kurt's lips. The muscle memory was still there. The reaction to that same gentle, teasing kiss his Blaine had always given him while they danced. Kurt pressed back, starved and greedy as Blaine's arms hooked around his neck.

* * *

The next evening, Kurt lay awake in bed, one hand tracing over his bare chest and the other running through Blaine's soft curls. He was asleep now, after hours and hours of being lost in each other. He'd lost all control yesterday and Blaine had been surprisingly eager to be with him. For a while Kurt could easily pretend that Blaine was his Blaine. They both tugged his shirt open in the same fury, sucked roughly on his pulse point, fisted his hair like their legs weren't strong enough to hold them up, and moved their hips in that same fluid tempo that sent Kurt over the edge again and again.

Every movement, every moment, had felt like coming home after a long, lonely journey. His Blaine had been in his arms, loving him and kissing him and holding him. They'd made love in the control room against the railing, in the corridor, against the bedroom door, and finally they'd tumbled naked into bed and kissed and sighed and shivered. It was only then, when they'd settled into a softer, kinder rhythm that Kurt had remembered the unbearable difference. The heavy beating of Blaine's single heart against his hearts, the regeneration energy that had slowly trickled into his breath as they'd melded together. But it had only been his.

Blaine was human. He wasn't his. It had all been a mistake and he couldn't drag Blaine into his own pain. Kurt sat up and untangled himself from Blaine slowly. He'd drop him at his flat in London 2001 and say goodbye with a false promise. Staying with Blaine, falling in love with this man who was so much of his husband and nothing of him, would destroy him if he had to live through his death again.

Kurt climbed out of bed to look for his pants. He'd take the TARDIS there now, and leave as fast as he could. Blaine wouldn't–

His foot fell on something cold and metallic. Kurt yelped and looked down. Something round and rather flat was sticking out of Blaine's pocket. Curious, Kurt bent down and tugged it free by the chain attached to it. It was a pocket watch. Silver and heavy and… familiar. Breath caught in his throat, Kurt slowly turned it over and when he saw the other side he dropped it.

A fob watch.

Blaine had a fob watch. Which meant–

Kurt picked it up and clutched it tightly as he stood. It couldn't be true. As much as they were alike, they were still different and he'd seen his Blaine die so long ago. He'd been there, held him as he'd tried to regeneration before his hearts stopped.

* * *

"Blaine? Blaine, wake up. Get up _now!_"

The Doctor's voice was so sharp and thunderous that Blaine jolted awake and nearly rolled out of bed. But the Doctor was nearly sitting on top of him, and the reminder of last night and all of yesterday made Blaine blush.

"No, no, no! No blushing right now," the Doctor snapped. A silver pocket watch was swung in front of Blaine's eyes. It seemed familiar, but unimportant, too. Blaine made to bat it aside, but the Doctor stopped him. "Where did you get this? How long has it been in your pocket?"

"It– I don't have a watch," Blaine said in bewilderment. "I've never– no, hang on." He cupped it as it swayed before his eyes. "This is… my birth mother left it with me in the basket when she dropped me on the doorstep at the orphanage. I'd forgotten about it. It's never worked. Not sure why I've still got it, to be perfectly honest."

"Have you ever actually opened it?" the Doctor pressed.

"Well, no," Blaine said in surprise. Now that he actually thought about it, he'd never given it more than a glimpse once or twice. He'd kept it to remind himself of his mother, but never done more than forget about it. "Why? Doctor, it's just a watch."

"It's not," the Doctor said quietly. "This watch is _you_. It's everything we've lost for so long."

"What are you on about?"

"It's _you!_ Y- you're my Blaine. You're both Blaines, don't you see?"

"Doctor, you're being ridiculous," Blaine said slowly. He took the watch and pried it from his grip. "Just come back to bed."

"No, this– Blaine, this is a fob watch. Look at the cover. It's–"

"Like the door knob to our room," Blaine said quietly as he really looked at it for the first time. It was an incredible description but he couldn't recall how to read it.

"Open it. Please, open it. Remember us, Blaine," the Doctor said quietly. He sniffled and cupped Blaine's face. "Come back to me in every way."

"I- I don't–"

_Boom boom boom boom!_

Blaine shivered as the drums thundered up louder. With the Doctor around they were always quieter, but right now, with this watch in hand, burning hot and cold across his skin and soul, Blaine could hear them just as loud as he always had.

"What happens if I open it?"

"Nothing or everything." The Doctor kissed his temple and sat back beside him.

Blaine met the Doctor's eyes as he clicked the release button.

* * *

_"Kurt? Kurt, stop running!"_

_ Blaine raced after his best friend, away from the drumming Time Vortex and back to the fields of their home. _

_ "It's– how can we ever want to journey through that?" Kurt said hysterically. "That was awful."_

_ "It was loud," Blaine agreed. "I heard, like, drums. I can still hear them."_

_ "I don't ever want to look into it again," Kurt said strongly. "I want to run and run and run from it forever."_

_ "We can run towards each other instead of away from things," Blaine suggested. He took Kurt's hand and sat down in the red grass with him. "It's okay because we've got each other."_

_ "I can't believe you have your own TARDIS," Kurt said as he circled it. "Gosh, I wish my dad would get me one, but he thinks I'm too young."_

_ "Your dad worries too much," Blaine said as he bounced around excitedly. They were sixteen now and just officially taking their names. "So Doctor, will you accompany me across the universe?"_

_ "Well, my dad won't like it," Kurt said as Blaine twirled him and tugged him in for a deep kiss. "Mmm, but how can I say no to that?"_

_ "Did you just ask me to marry you?"_

_ "Would you rather I tell you, too?" Blaine laughed. He held out the silver ring covered in Gallifreyan. "Come on, be my husband. We're twenty-one now, and even now all I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do, is spend my life loving you."_

_ "And traveling through time and space," Kurt added as he plucked the ring from Blaine's hand._

_ "Only if it's with you," Blaine said as a grin started to spread across his face. "Is this a yes?"_

_ "It's always going to be yes," Kurt said. "But not in the fourteen century, okay? Let's go somewhere classy."_

_ "I hear there's a cruise across the Hydian Way a couple thousand years away," Blaine suggested as Kurt slid the ring on and they joined hands. "What do you say, almost-husband?"_

_"No, come on, regenerate," Kurt demanded. He held Blaine tightly, one arm around his chest, the other under his back. But Blaine could barely see, he was trying, he was, but his own regeneration energy was choking him. "You can't leave me here, you goof."_

_ "I- I- I–"_

_ "Doctor, we have to go. This place is about to blow. I'm sorry, he's gone."_

_ "No, he's not. He's _not_ gone!"_

_ "His hearts have stop. There's nothing we can do–"_

_ "No! Blaine!"_

_ His back sunk to the floor as someone–another Time Lord– pulled Kurt away from him, back to their own TARDIS, to leave him here among the wreckage. His regeneration energy continued to build, but it was like everything else was frozen. Almost as if someone had time locked his body to make him look dead. Blaine tried to break free, to stay conscious, to survive long enough to regenerate. He'd never done it before. Neither of them had, but he had to for Kurt. _

_ Someone suddenly pulled him up and started dragging him. Blaine tried to speak, tried to see who it was because it wasn't Kurt's gentle hands. But his eyes were heavy, his throat was clogged with energy and he saw only the inside of a TARDIS before everything went black._

* * *

"Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me?"

He was laying down somewhere soft and warm. A hand was brushing over his hair, his curly hair. He would end up with even frizzier curls than he'd had originally. Blaine blinked slowly and Kurt's face, different and new and still familiar, came into focus.

"Hello, Kurt," Blaine whispered.

"Y- you– Blaine? It's you? It's really you?"

"Well, I've got two hearts, don't I?"

Kurt dropped down into his arms, holding him hard enough to bruise, until their hearts were beating against each other and they were both crying quietly.

"I love you. Don't you _ever_ slow regenerate and I don't even know what else on me ever again," Kurt snapped suddenly. He sat back and slapped Blaine hard. "Ever. Do you understand that? I can't go through this again. It's been four centuries without you."

"Four centuries?" Blaine echoed. "How many–"

"I'm only on my fourth," Kurt said quietly. "You've got some catching up to do. That means _you_ get to make the sacrifices around here for a while. And I get to have the baby."

"The what? We're having a baby?"

"That nursery's sat waiting for four hundred years for something you promised me when I was twenty-three, Blaine," Kurt reminded him. "Besides, we need companions."

"Yeah, I guess we do," Blaine said quietly. He ran his hands over himself, and listened to the dull thud of the drums as they lined up with the beating of Kurt's hearts. "I've missed you. I can't believe I'd lost this. I still don't know who it was–"

"Who what was?" Kurt frowned at him as he laid down in Blaine's arms.

"When I was dying, it was like everything had frozen. I could feel my regeneration energy in my throat, but I could do anything. Then you– you were gone. They dragged you off and then someone came for me," Blaine explained quietly. "I don't know, but I passed out and then I was human."

"We'll sort it out," Kurt mumbled. "I can't be bothered right now. I've got my husband back and we're not leaving this bed for a week. We'll just park outside Santana and Dani's flat and drive them up the wall by being there but not actually coming to visit."

"Santana and Dani?" Blaine asked as Kurt settled over his hips and started kissing his chest.

"You'll love them," Kurt murmured as he kissed up Blaine's neck to his lips. "But later. It's us again now."


	9. Ironman

A/N: Ironman. IronmanIronmanIronman. That's all I have to say.

**Jedi** for tomorrow. And a foot of snow for me! -snow chant intensifies-

**Ironman**

"Can't I just live with my brother?"

It was the dozenth time Blaine had asked the same question since he'd been called in that morning. The social worker only shook his head. "Your brother's life is too wild to raise a teenage boy in. He travels constantly, Blaine. You'd be on your own or yanked out of school almost every day."

"But I know him," Blaine persisted. "He's a lot older than me, but at least I know him. This _man_ was nothing more than a sperm donor."

"Nevertheless, he's your biological father."

"His life is even more dangerous and bizarre than Cooper's!" Blaine argued. "He's a maniac in a flying metal suit."

"You'll live with him until you're of legal age, Blaine. There's nothing more to be said."

The social worker ignored him after that. Blaine leaned back in his chair and pulled his sweater more snuggly around himself. This office was always freezing. For the past week, he'd been brought in from his temporary home to discuss what would happen to him now. He'd expected to move to California with his brother, but instead they'd dug up his birth certificate and found the man listed as his biological father.

Unfortunately that man was the absolute last person Blaine wanted to be involved with.

Tony Stark, official weapon and hero of the United States. Ironman. Neither of them had believed it until they'd run a blood test to confirm. Now Blaine was expected to pack up and go live with him. Moving to a strange house, with a strange, possibly psychotic, man he'd never met. Today was the day, and his supposed father was already an hour late.

"Can I just go? I've got a test in my last class I can still make–"

The door of the office burst open. Blaine whipped around and then groaned at who was here. Most kids would probably be excited and thrilled to see their biological father for the first time; all of them would he ecstatic to see Ironman. For Blaine, it was easily the worst moment of his life.

"All right, let's do this. Ah, here's the guy." Tony Stark pulled off his sunglasses and stared down at Blaine. "Huh, I guess you do look like me. Funny thing genetics. I was hoping I could get rid of you if you looked like your mother."

The social worker stood up, looking more like an overeager fanboy than a man holding Blaine's future in his hands. "It's so wonderful to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"I don't like to be handed things."

A tall redhead hurried in. Blaine recognized her, too. Pepper Potts. Tony Stark's keeper.

"I'll take all of the paperwork," Pepper said quickly. "He has a thing about being handed things." She took the stack of papers, then spotted Blaine. "Oh, hi. Gosh, you look so much like Tony. I'm Pepper."

"Blaine," he offered reluctantly. "Listen, I've got class–"

"Class?" Tony snorted and tugged Blaine to his feet. "Seriously? Brian–"

"Blaine," he snarled. "My name's Blaine."

"Right, kid, I've got a whole plane of beautiful dancers waiting to meet the next handsome Stark." He threw his arm around Blaine's shoulders even though Blaine tried to pull himself free. "What teenage boy doesn't love half-naked woman?"

"I'm not even remotely interested," Blaine snapped.

But Tony only patted him on the head then pulled back and stared at his head. Blaine tried to free himself from Tony's side, but the other man tugged him closer and tapped him on the hair with his knuckles. "We'll work on this gel addiction on the plane, too. Or is this some kind of condition? I'm sure I can fix it."

Pepper finished talking to the social worker, grabbed Blaine's single bag and hurried after them.

* * *

Blaine tried not to show how impressed he was by the private jet he was led onto. It was beautiful, well furnished, and stocked with everything he'd never thought about wanting on a plane. By the time they were in the air, Tony already had a drink in his belly and another in his hand.

"You want anything? Margarita? Bourbon? Everything's fully stocked."

"Tony, your son is sixteen," Pepper snapped from her seat across the room. "He's not allowed to drink yet."

"Ah, come on," Tony said as he made another drink. "Like that's stopped any teenager in this country. What do you want?"

Blaine stared at his knees. "I want to go home."

"That'll be a few hours. I'll make you a–"

"No, I mean my home. Living with you won't be home."

Pepper shuffled her papers in the corner and stood up. "I'll leave you two to get to know each other. Tony, no illegal drinking. Blaine, it's lovely to meet you."

She left and Tony finished up his third drink. Blaine stared out the window at the clouds and tried to will himself back to the soil in Ohio. This was the end of everything he'd known. He was stuck with this self-destructive moron for the next seventeen months.

"Here." A glass was forced into his hand. "Drink. It'll help."

Blaine stared at it. The liquid was dark, but had an amber tone around the ice cubes. He wasn't sure what it was, but somehow he didn't think it was Pepsi. Instead of taking a sip he sat it on the table and ignored Tony as he took the seat beside him.

"No? All right, but the dancers are a lot more fun when there's rum. Ladies? I've got a new Stark for your viewing pleasure!"

"What? No, I'm not–"

Blaine made to leave, but Tony forced him back onto the couch as two women in bikinis appeared.

* * *

"Aw, come on, Brian!"

"My name is Blaine!"

"Right, Blaine, come on. They're actually lovely women," Tony insisted as he hurried off the plane after him. "Did you really not enjoy that? Has all of that gel seeped into your pores? You've really gotta cut back on that."

Blaine flung himself into the waiting car and slammed the door. He could hear Pepper berating Tony outside and after five minutes she joined him in the backseat and Tony sat up front. The drive to Tony's house was fast and short. Pepper ushered him out and kept her hand on the back of his neck, gently stroking. It was soothing in a strange way as he stepped into the enormous house that was supposed to be his home. At least he was only a short drive away from Cooper now. That was one benefit of this nightmare.

"Your room's down that hall," Pepper said gently. "The first door heads down to the garage, but the second is yours. You have your own bathroom, too."

Blaine nodded and hurried off before Tony could stumble his way inside. The hallway was well-lit and long. Blaine slowed down once he was out of sight of the main entrance and looked around. The first door, the one to the garage, was half-open. He glanced down the stairs, heard the sound of some type of machinery, then music, faint by enough to hear a beautiful voice singing along.

_"All you need is love."_

Blaine listened until the song finished, surprised that Tony let a woman work in his private garage. He hesitated at the door, but the voice kept singing after the music and machinery stopped. It was too wonderful to ignore. A strong sense of melody, a wide range that suddenly dropped into a tenor deeper than his own. Blaine set his bag down by the door and headed down into the garage. At a workbench in the closest corner was a young man, roughly his age. He was thin, but strong, with brown hair that was falling out of what must have been a time-consuming style.

There was junk and parts everywhere. Across the room was a long line of beautifully restored cars. Beside the man, was another one, the hood open and the body rusted. As Blaine moved towards him, the man started singing again. The music had fallen silent, the tape running out, Blaine thought, but the man carried the song easily.

_ "I was alone, I took a ride_

_ I didn't know what I would find there_

_ Another road where maybe I_

_ could see another kind of mind there"_

Blaine watched the man sway a little as he tinkered with something under the hood, before he picked up the song himself.

"_Oh, then I suddenly see you_

_ Oh, did I tell you I need you?_

_ Every single day of my life."_

The man jumped and flung his wrench into the air. It landed on the work bench and scattered parts everywhere. He stared over at Blaine in surprise, and Blaine blushed as he finally caught sight of the man's face. He was beautiful, but definitely his age. Seventeen at most.

"You scared me," he said, patting his chest and smiling in surprise. "You must be Tony's son?"

Blaine flinched. "My name's Blaine Anderson."

"Kurt. You, um, you have a lovely voice," Kurt said. His smile flickered to something sharper. "How are you liking California so far?"

"I preferred Ohio," Blaine said quietly. "Everything here's very… showy."

"Oh," Kurt's smile faltered at his words. "I grew up in Ohio. Me and my dad moved here when I was eleven. Your– Tony requested my dad to help with all of his cars. I think they went to school together or something."

Blaine nodded and picked up a random piece of metal on the work bench. This man, this boy, seemed a lot nicer than his dad and he'd already hurt his feelings. "That's cool. Sorry, I just– this is all kind of sudden."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed. He found his wrench and nodded his head towards the open hood. "You know anything about cars?"

"Only how to drive one," Blaine said. Kurt winked at him and waved him over to the hood. Blaine tried not to blush or stare, but the closer he got the harder it was. Kurt grew more beautiful with every inch that disappeared between them. Covered in sweat, grease, and grime, Kurt was something entirely all his own.

"Here," Kurt gently took his hand and put the wrench in it. I'm trying to get this old carburetor out. Well, I've got to get everything out so we can restore it, but this one's stuck fast. It's rusted over really badly."

Blaine's face was like molten lava as Kurt stood behind him, his chest to Blaine's back and guided his hand towards the spot. "Jerk it towards us. Maybe you're strong enough."

Blaine looked over his shoulder as Kurt tried to show him the correct motion. Kurt's face was right beside his, sweaty, bright, and furrowed in concentration until he caught Blaine's gaze.

"Brian– uh, Blaine? Kid, your room's the second door– oh."

They jumped apart, the wrench tumbled down through the car. Kurt moved to the work bench to wipe his hands off as Blaine tried to find somewhere to hide his red face.

"Well," Tony said as he strolled towards them. "Hey, Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

Blaine jumped at the bodiless voice that suddenly echoed around the room.

"New plan. Hire a pair of male dancers for the jet," Tony commanded. "Looks like my boy's got an eye for his own kind."


	10. Jedi

A/N: Jedi for this snowy Wednesday evening. Like super snow. We're supposed to get 12-18 inches, so needlessly to say I'm painfully excited.

**King** tomorrow, and I think, if I'm remembering right, it's the first **smut**prompt of the lot.

Enjoy!

**Jedi**

Kurt's butt hit the padded floor of the training room, his training lightsaber tumbling out of his grip.

"Do you yield?"

He glared up at the boy standing over him, lightsaber tip to his neck. Blaine Anderson smiled down at him. Any other student would have tapped him with their lightsaber and ended the duel. Handsome, talented, the best initiate in their year, Blaine was kind and Kurt hated him for it.

"No," Kurt snapped. Blaine's smile falter a little. Anyone else would have gladly taken his offer. Training lightsabers weren't lethal, they couldn't even sever limbs, but they did leave nasty burns. Kurt would rather take a trip across the temple to the Jedi healers than give in to Blaine's kindness. A real enemy wouldn't offer kindness.

Blaine took a step back and bit his lip. It was his greatest weakness, really, not being able to actually tap the others. It was the reason he'd someday lose a real duel and his life. And Kurt was going to teach him why. Today would be the day.

He reached out with the Force for his lightsaber and flipped to his feet, meeting Blaine's next strike and holding his ground. They fought back across the mat, slashing, thrusting, and twisting. Kurt had him just at the edge when the Force surged around him and Blaine went sailing over his head. Before Kurt could turn, he took another foot to his back and toppled to the ground again.

"Yield?"

"No, you'll have to strike me first!" Kurt glared up at him. And tried to summon his lightsaber with the Force again. Blaine blocked it and held his lightsaber to Kurt's neck. "I won't yield! I won't!"

"I– Kurt, you've lost," Blaine insisted. He bit his lip again and the hand holding his lightsaber shook. "Just yield and we can take a break."

"No, I will not!"

"Kurt–"

"Younglings, yield you must."

Kurt sat up as Master Yoda limped towards them. It was only then that he realized they were the last pair in the room. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly an hour after their usual release time.

"Yes, Master Yoda." Blaine bowed and thumbed his lightsaber off.

Kurt stood up and offered the same greeting to Master Yoda.

"Hmm, very late it is, Kurt, Blaine. Back to your rooms, you must go."

"But Master, we aren't–"

Kurt stopped at the look on Master Yoda's face. He was always overstepping and letting his tongue and temper get ahead of him. It was something all the Masters were constantly reminding him of, the reason so many had already passed him over and hadn't even given him a chance to speak. At twelve, nobody wanted a Padawan who couldn't control his anger.

"Blaine, a Jedi Knight waits to speak with you." Kurt followed the direction Master Yoda's cane was pointing. "Kurt, stay for a moment, you will."

"Yes, Master."

As Blaine scooped up his outer tunic and his belt, Kurt watched the entrance to the training room. A real Jedi Knight was standing there. It was a human male, tall, broad, with dark hair and a brilliant smile. He was quite young compared to the ones who usually took a padawan, but all knights had to start somewhere. Blaine was a year younger than himself and he was about to be chosen. At this rate, Kurt would end up in the AgriCorps before someone dared to pick him and his temper.

"Master Yoda, I'm sorry."

His green ears lowered as he sighed and sat down on the bench beside Kurt's belt. "Much to learn you both have. Good it is to teach another his faults, but better perhaps to see your own first, hmm?"

Kurt looked down at his boots and frowned. "Yes, Master." It was true. There was no denying the trouble his temper got him in. He got into fights, especially with Blaine and the other younglings in his clan. He used the Force with anger in mind, got caught wandering about at night, and generally skipped on his mediation when he got the chance. But he had a strength in the Force the others didn't. He was sure of it.

"Hmm, mediate tonight you must. Important, it is, to join to the Force." Master Yoda nodded at him. "Tomorrow before Force training, a master will see you."

"A master? Who?"

"Tomorrow."

* * *

It was late when Blaine arrived back to their shared room. Kurt was already changed and ready for bed. Meditation could wait a while longer. Sitting around thinking about clearing your mind couldn't be that important, really.

"Hello!"

Blaine was beaming which could only mean one thing. That Jedi Knight, whoever he was, had asked to train him as a padawan.

"He took you on then?"

"He– you saw? It's– he's just a knight and I've still got almost a year, but," Blaine shrugged as he sat down on his cot. "It just feels right. Like I know him from somewhere. We saw him in the dueling competition when we first became initiates, remember? Cooper Starkiller. He was about seventeen then, I guess."

Kurt curled his lips and rolled over to face the wall. Cooper Starkiller, of course. The best Jedi Knight in recent years, with a roaring reputation and a standing invitation to half the political and royal balls this side of the Hydian Way. Blaine would be lucky enough to be chosen by a young, intelligent, well-connected Jedi Knight.

"I said I'd take the night to think about it, but I want to say yes," Blaine continued. "It feels right."

"Lucky you," Kurt snapped.

Blaine shifted on his cot. They'd never exactly been friends, not really. They'd been rooming together since they'd been chosen for clans. Kurt hadn't been happy about it back then. At five he'd even gone to Master Yoda and tried to be placed elsewhere, but there were no moves after clans were chosen. The Jedi Knights in the crèche chose their places as younglings and the Force was certain he should be here. The Force didn't know much if it thought him and Blaine Anderson rooming together was a good idea. They were both too good at this to ever like each other.

"Someone will come and ask you any day now, I know it," Blaine said suddenly. "I saw a man who asked you when I was meditating last–"

"Week and the week before," Kurt finished. He'd heard it for almost a year now, and the lie, because it had to be one, was getting old. Other things Blaine had seen had been proven true, it was a rare gift even for a Jedi to see such truth so clearly, but this wasn't one of those. "There is no master willing to train me, don't you get that? It doesn't matter how good I am, I'm going to be a farmer and that's all there is to it."

"You're never going to be a farmer," Blaine insisted quietly. "I've seen us, years and years from now. There was you and your Master sitting on rocks and waterfalls. A big man, his head was going bald, he was human, and kind. We were training together with our masters, going on missions, protecting worlds we can't even dream up. You and me, always together."

"I don't want to be with you always," Kurt snapped. He threw one of his dirty tunics at Blaine and rolled away from him. "And I don't want to meditate tonight, either. It's such a waste of time."

"It's not," Blaine said. His cot squeaked as he stood up. "If you did, I'm sure you could clear your mind, look through your arrogance and anger–"

"I am not arrogant," Kurt snarled. He kicked his wall as Blaine left to clean up. "I'm not," he muttered against his sleep mat pillow. "I just have high standards. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the best."

_But the best at what cost?_ Kurt glared at the wall and wished he could kick himself.

He woke the next morning before Blaine, and left early for breakfast and then to meditate. Master Yoda could always tell if he hadn't at least practiced a few times a week. But Kurt didn't like the silence, the ache in his head when he sat down and tried to not think. It didn't work or calm him like it did for Blaine or Rachel or any of the others. His mind was too busy to be a comfortable place. Blaine always told him to shut up and relax. Kurt always told Blaine to sit on a lightsaber.

Kurt snuck into the Room of a Thousand Fountains and climbed over stones and falls and grass to a spot he'd visited his entire life. Whenever he snuck out he came here to think or to stubbornly try to meditate like he should every morning and evening. He wanted to know how to do it well, but asking someone meant having to admit he couldn't do it on his own.

The water trickled down the stones around him as he took his place in the center of the little pool. Perched on the biggest stone, Kurt crossed his legs and shut his eyes. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Release all thoughts of self, all emotion. But the rock under him was damp, the smell of water was filling his lungs, and it was impossible to ignore the constant trickling. He shifted, adjusted his legs, and tried to shut his own head up.

"You'll never get anywhere in here with a mind like that."

Kurt almost toppled off his stone into the water. A Jedi Knight, a Master, not of the High Council, but a true Master nonetheless, was settling down beside him, his dark robe sweeping around him. He was older, much older and more experienced than Cooper Starkiller, with a shiny head and a kind smile. There was a pause as the man gently squeezed Kurt's shoulder.

"Jedi Master Burt Hummel," he said. "Master Yoda tells me you have a temper."

"I do not! I'm just–" Kurt tried not to growl and instead grit his teeth. "I guess I get mad sometimes."

The Jedi Master chuckled and patted him on the back almost sending Kurt toppling face over butt. "To be angry is to be human. It's nothing to be embarrassed or upset about, young one. Even now, I have my moments of it. But being a Jedi means being something beyond such things, being able to harness what we are born with and to do something good for the galaxy. Do you understand?"

Kurt nodded quickly. None of his teachers ever talked like that. Everything was about purging this or that and becoming a hollow meat and bone sack for the Force to wield itself through.

"Good. Let's try meditation again. It will help guide you through understanding your anger. Face me." Kurt gave the man a funny look but turned to him. "Close your eyes now. Good." Two strong hands rubbed over Kurt's temples. "Focus in, find yourself inside, find what simmers in your heart."

"But–"

"Shh, something that really means something."

Kurt thought back then, thought long and hard until he was four, during his first sneak out into the same room he was in now. It had been the first time he'd really seen water or stones or anything natural. Coruscant was nothing more than a giant city-planet. Somewhere deep in the lower city there might be real land, but up this high there was nothing but creature made structures. That first visit had been a thrill beyond compare, a joy and peace he'd had little understanding of since. It was the first and only time he'd ever gotten along well with Blaine to his knowledge. They'd been caught that night and punished. Even now Kurt could hear the distant sound of Blaine crying himself to sleep and his vow to never sneak out again. He hadn't been quite as keen on trouble as Kurt.

"That's it," Master Burt's voice encouraged. "Deep breath in, another out. Let the Force in, slowly at first, then all at once."

Kurt did as instructed, opened his mind and the Force rushed through him, through his limbs, his mind, his heart. He breathed out and immersed himself deeper, sinking down, down, down…

_"Kurt… Kurt, it's time for your classes_."

Kurt hummed softly and then yelped as he was shaken.

"Hey, come on, bud. You've got class."

"Class? But it's–"

"You got very deep into your meditation," Master Burt told him as he hoisted him to his feet. "Much better than what I've been hearing, Padawan. Come, let's get you to class before you're late."

Kurt didn't move. He stared up at Master Burt instead and tried to fathom what he'd just heard. Padawan. Him! Someone's Jedi apprentice!

"D- did you just– really? I mean," Kurt cleared his throat and calmed himself. "Thank you, Master. I'm honored to be considered."

"I wouldn't think to choose anyone else, Padawan. Come. We'll talk more after your lessons."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

That evening Kurt packed his few belongings and tried not to bounce around his room. Him! A future Jedi Knight! It was happening. All of it was happening... Just like Blaine had been saying. He looked behind him at Blaine's empty shelves and his newly bare mat. Blaine was already gone, off getting ready to explore the galaxy with Cooper Starkiller.

Kurt frowned and looked the room over before he left the last time. He was moving to new quarters, joint ones with Master Burt. He'd have his own room to himself now.

"It's weird, isn't it?"

Blaine was behind him in their clan's joint living space.

"Yes, we're all leaving this place behind now," Kurt stepped out of their room and let the door whoosh close. "You, um, you were right. About my master."

"I know," Blaine nodded and smiled. "I knew he was coming for you soon. The Force told me."

"I just wasn't listening," Kurt said quietly. "I should have been. Should have been learning. He showed me, y'know, what you're always telling me."

Blaine nodded like he knew that, too. Maybe he did. The Force spoke to Blaine in ways it didn't or couldn't to Kurt. At least he thought it did.

"We're heading to Ilum soon, so I can make a real lightsaber," Blaine told him. "Three weeks from now."

"That's great. Master Burt said he'd take me soon, too."

"Awesome. Well, I'll be seeing you then."

Kurt nodded. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other if you're right."

"I hope so," Blaine said. Then he stepped forward and hugged Kurt. It was first time Kurt could ever remember someone hugging him. He stood there, stunned long after Blaine had said goodbye and left for his new life.

* * *

"Your Padawan's a bit slow."

Blaine elbowed him as little Daitri huddled between them and shivered.

"Does it always have to be so c- c- cold here?"

"Yes, Padawan. Let's head in so you can start. Blaine, hurry it up. I can't wait all month for you again."

"That was one time and it was your fault I ended up in that jungle on Raascox Three."

Kurt laughed as he headed into the crystal caves with his Padawan and Blaine leaned over the cliff side to help guide Xanta up the last sheer ice facing.

"There you go. It's a rough climb. I nearly broke my neck the first time. Master Cooper was too busy making jokes," Blaine brushed some of the snow off her and hurried her into the cave. Kurt and Daitri were already inside, draping their robes over an outcropping of rock as Kurt prepared her to go forward alone.

"What do you mean I have to go alone?" Daitri said in surprise. "How'm I supposed to know what to do?"

"With what has always guided you," Kurt told her. "Go on. You were born to do this. We wouldn't be here if you weren't ready."

"I want to go in with Xanta."

Xanta took off her own cloak and unfastened her belt. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I guess. Why are you leaving your belt?" Daitri asked.

"Cause I won't need that."

Blaine and Kurt watched their Padawans head into the cave. They whispered as they walked and finally, turned the corner and disappeared.

"How long do you think we'll be here?" Kurt asked as he sat down and leaned against the wall.

"Well if either of them are like you were the first time you built a lightsaber, it'll be a few weeks," Blaine remarked.

Kurt glared at him and snuck his foot out. When Blaine tripped and stumbled down beside him, Kurt knew it was on purpose. It had been a long time since Blaine had been out-of-tune with the Force enough to miss such a trick.

"You're still not very nice," Blaine mumbled. He sat back against the cave wall at Kurt's side. "I figure it'll take them a few days, at least. Do you think they're far enough in now?"

Kurt closed his eyes and searched for their life essence through the Force. "Yeah, they're well in there." Blaine's hand slid into his and his fingers rubbed over his knuckles. "How long do you think it'll take them to figure _us_ out?"

"A long time, I hope," Blaine said. "If anyone knew, if _anyone_ ever found out, we'd be thrown out of the order. A Jedi shall not love."

"Not the way I love you at any rate," Kurt agreed. "I can't believe you were right. All these years later and here we are, always together."

"The Council thinks we make a wonderful team. It's the reason we've been given all of these missions together for so long," Blaine reminded him. He dropped his head onto Kurt's shoulder. "I think Master Yoda knows, or at least suspects. They might all know, with as great a team as we are."

"As long as we get to have this life together, then I'm okay."

"Yeah, me, too."


	11. King

A/N: So much snow. So much wonderful snow for me. King today and this one gets an **NC-17 **rating. Yup. And dragons, too.

Enjoy! Tomorrow is **Laser Tag!**

**King**

"Your Majesty, there are reports of another dragon family loose in the marshes."

Kurt gripped his silverware so hard he almost bent them. It was the third time this week he'd heard that news. All the reports had come from the same general area. The southern border with the Dalton kingdom. Ever since King James IV had died and left his oldest son, Cooper, in charge, dragon sightings had shot through the roof. There was a long strip of mountains that marked the edge of his own kingdom, a mountain range inhabited with fierce, enormous monsters that had always been Dalton's responsibility as part of a long held treaty of friendship between their two lands. Kurt's great-grandfather and King Cooper's grandfather, a young, newly-crowned king, had forged the document almost a century ago.

Now, that whimsical, lazy fire-breather was dishonoring it. Or more likely, as Kurt suspected, Cooper was too busy charming as many royal women as he could find. He'd never cared much for the older Anderberry son. The two youngest, Rachel and Blaine, were odd, but distant friends of his.

"How many?" he asked as his aid continued to bow. "Stop bowing, Finn. Honestly. I've known you since birth, our parents are getting married. Just treat me like anyone else."

"Sorry, Your Ma– Kurt, um. There's been five reports so far, saying somewhere from five to eight. Two fully-grown, and several offspring around six months, judging by their size."

"And Dalton?" Kurt asked snidely as he went back to his soup.

"Nothing, sir. I sent a runner and all we got in return was an away message from King Cooper."

Kurt finished his wine, took a last bite of soup, and wiped his mouth.

"Shall I send another set of troops?"

"Yes, but I'll lead," Kurt said. He stood up and adjusted his tunic. "Prepare my knights and send a runner to make sure word has been spread throughout the marshes to evacuate or seek fortified shelter. Send a second to Dalton and tell King Cooper he's to meet us at their base in a fortnight or I'll have him skinned and hung on a mountain top." He grinded his teeth. "We leave before the sun sets."

Finn hurried out. Kurt sighed and poured himself another glass of wine. He despised Cooper Anderberry.

* * *

It took two days of hard riding to reach the border. From there it was another two weeks of mindless chasing and capturing, and, in the case of the adult male, killing. The rest had slowly been rounded up and frozen with a clever charm Kurt had leaved as boy. He wasn't considered the Ice King by their distant enemies for nothing. The last time they'd battled almost a decade ago, Kurt, just a prince of sixteen, had frozen an entire herd of mammoths about to flatten himself and his soldiers.

"That's the last of them," Santana called as several men tied the almost entirely frozen dragon to their harnesses. It was the mother dragon, all but it's still flapping wings encased in ice. "Shall we camp here for the night?"

Kurt watched her re-tie her hair and then slid her helmet back on. "No, it's still early. We'll have a quick meal, then head to the border. Towards their base. If King Cooper has any sense, he should be there to meet us today."

Santana snorted and pushed her visor down. "That mongrel doesn't know his ass from his face."

As she rode off to tell the rest of his knights their marching orders, Kurt couldn't help but agree. If only Cooper had been gifted with his younger siblings' brains. He had the impeccable good looks and the charm, but nothing else. Why Dalton hadn't outlawed their archaic rules of ascension was beyond him. They'd done away with everything else, just as Kurt's father and grandmother had during their reins.

They stopped and ate a few rations, then rode out, the monstrous dragons soaring along above them in their ice capsules. One of the babies, with wings still growing and weak, had been fitted into a makeshift harness and was dragged along towards the border. The sun set over the mountains as they loomed larger, and by the time the first stars appeared, Dalton's base could be seen glowing in the distance.

Kurt called his troops to a halt. "Camp here tonight," he said to his soldiers. "I'll ride on for the night and deal with the politics. Santana, at dawn I want you to come meet me at the camp. From there we'll hand the dragons over to be relocated deeper in the mountains."

The rest of the group nodded, but Santana winked and gave him a cheeky little grin. "Sure thing, Your Majesty. You ride hard tonight, you heard?"

If it hadn't been dark, hoots and jibs about his beet red blush would have followed him towards the mountain pass. So what if Prince Blaine, his long-time friend, happened to be stationed as Dragon Guard? That had nothing to do with riding on by himself for tonight.

* * *

Dalton soldiers dropped into deep bows as Kurt entered their base camp. It wasn't a large fortress like some of his kingdom's own to the west. Just four jagged stone walls carved from the mountain and a deep hollow into its side. Kurt slid off his horse as he entered the mountain side and handed her off to the first soldier to approach.

"A quiet stable and plenty of hay for her, please," Kurt told the young girl. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. The same age he'd started his own military venture. "I'd like to see the prince as well. We have six dragons that need to be relocated."

"Of course, Your Majesty. She'll be well tended," the girl said, bowing once more. "Prince Blaine is in his cabin. Just over the–"

"I know where it is," Kurt said simply. "See that we aren't disturbed," he added to the soldiers around him. "His brother was supposed to be here to discuss this increasing dragon issue and I can see clearly he's not."

"No, Your Majesty."

"Very well." Kurt nodded to all of them, accepted their bows and offers to take his cloak and sword. Once they had all scattered off to continue their duties, Kurt continued down the path deeper into the mountain with an oil lamp one of the men had offered. It was still decently lit with the lamps hung all along the pass, but the ground was jagged and snagged at people's feet. After ten minutes and dozens of smaller cottages and bunkers for the soldiers, Kurt reached the end of the twisting road. A door had been carved into the stone here, and a dozen windows were glowing in the rock around it. He knocked loudly.

"Sam, if this is about my asinine brother again– Kurt." Blaine stared at him, his gaze brightening as he stepped back to let him in. "I didn't expect you until morning."

"Had an easier time than I thought," he smiled as he looked around the small room. It wasn't much at all and no different from a few months ago. A desk cluttered with parchment, spilled ink all down the side, a handful of polished swords and bows by the door, and a small fireplace that Kurt had never understood the structure of. They were tens, if not hundreds, of miles under the mountain, yet the smoke never filled the room. Maybe it had something to do with Blaine's own abilities.

"Again? Honestly, I'm so sorry about this, Kurt. We've had so much trouble to the west. It's breeding season for the Oltan Diamondbacks right now. They're giving the entire western edge a huge problem."

"Your brother hasn't been any help either," Kurt added. "He was supposed to be here to discuss his end of the Treaty of Devon."

"Cooper's useless. If I were king," Blaine stopped at that and Kurt knew why. Even as a prince, it was considered treasonous for him to speak in such a way. "I'll have Rachel handle it," he said finally. "Between the two of us, we're handling everything Cooper hasn't bothered with. Can you believe he's got three women pregnant right now? All married women, of course. He'll never have a legitimate heir and I somehow doubt I will either."

"Considering your type, I doubt it, too," Kurt teased. He smiled over at Blaine who grinned back. "I'm sure Rachel will, if nobody else. At least I have an excuse to come visit you. So, about my lodgings for the night."

Blaine smiled, his eyes growing dark. "I'm sure the usual arrangement will do, won't it, Your Majesty?" he approached slowly and unfastened the hook on Kurt's belt. "Here, let me disrobe you, draw a nice, hot bath, and then how about a massage in your bedroom, My Lord?"

Kurt grinned and ducked his head a little. For all his twenty- seven years, he still couldn't keep the bashful grin from his lips when Blaine spoke to him like that. Blaine, for his part, slipped into their intimacy like a second skin. He set Kurt's belt on his desk and started pealing back the layers of his tunic.

"Mmm, you're always so taut," Blaine murmured, his lips dipping into the hollow of Kurt's throat. "So smooth and broad." Kurt shivered as his tunic hit the floor and Blaine led him to the bedroom. "Shall we skip to the massage and then have a bath?"

"Sure," Kurt breathed. Blaine shut the door and pressed Kurt against it, his mouth sucking over Kurt's freckled skin and every inch of muscle as he exposed it. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you," Blaine whispered. His hands undid the fastenings of Kurt's pants and pushed them down his hips. "Kiss me."

And Kurt did, his mouth eagerly molding against Blaine's as they back-pedaled towards the bed. Blaine turned them around and pushed Kurt down. "Oil's in the drawer."

Kurt grabbed it as Blaine finished undressing him and moved over him on the bed. "On your stomach," Blaine ordered slowly. He smiled down at Kurt's erection as he stroked it once. "It's been too long since I've made you feel good."

Kurt rolled over and groaned as his hips rocked against the bed. Above him, Blaine started drizzling oil over his skin. As Blaine's hands started to work along his shoulders, neck, and back, Kurt sunk into the bed and moaned softly. Nothing ever compared to being alone with Blaine. Even if it was just one evening, once a year or two or five, it was always a magnificent experience.

Blaine's fingers kneaded and loosened his muscles, slowly moving down his body until they skimmed over his ass, tugging gently at the firm cheeks until Kurt whined high in his throat and rutted against the bed.

"You've always loved having your ass played with," Blaine purred as he kissed each cheek and then massaged more oil into his ass and thighs. "Do you want me to give your ass a nice, long massage tonight, sweet king?"

Kurt groaned and nodded against the pillow, his hips shifting in their search for friction. "Please."

Blaine tugged at each of his cheeks, then spread them apart and ran his tongue along the dip. "Mmm, so beautiful." Kurt gasped as Blaine's tongue teased his rim, then flickered in through the muscles and back out. A second later, a slick finger was tracing the muscle, pressing and relaxing until Blaine slipped the tip inside. Kurt gave a pleased cry at the stretch. It always felt incredible after months and months without. The last time they'd met two months ago, Blaine had reacted in much the same way, writhing and moaning as Kurt had worked him open.

A kiss was pressed to each of his cheeks as Blaine's finger pushed in, then started slowly thrusting. Kurt was panting against the pillow by the time Blaine slid a second and then third one in alongside the first.

"Please, _please_, I need to– want to feel you," Kurt whimpered. He moaned as Blaine worked his fingers apart and then held them as deep as he could. A soft kiss lingered against the slick skin at the small of his back. "Blaine, _please_."

"If you wish, sweet king," Blaine murmured. He slid his fingers out slowly. The bed shifted underneath Kurt as he forced his fist between himself and the bed to stroke his aching cock. As he sighed, Blaine's hands settled on the bed on either side of his face, and the blunt, slick tip of Blaine's cock nudged against his hole. "You're going to feel so good. So good."

A gasp fell from Kurt's lips as Blaine started to push in, his hips arching forward until he bottomed out with a deep groan. For a few moments, they were still, adjusted and panting at being joined once more. Then Blaine eased his hips back and began to thrust, his movements fluid and slow as Kurt stroked himself rapidly.

"You're always so tight," Blaine breathed, dropping his weight to his elbows and pressed a wet kiss to Kurt's neck. "Such a perfect ass." He moaned and his hips jerked to a faster rhythm, his thrusts slapping down hard against Kurt's ass.

Kurt cried out and arched up to meet Blaine, holding himself tight and stiff until Blaine let out a gasping whimper and paused. After a decade of meeting for one night, Kurt knew how to guide Blaine off the ledge, how to angle himself for the best of both of their enjoyments.

"That's the spot," he breathed, fisting his own cock more tightly. "Don't stop, please. Just go all night."

Blaine rolled his hips back and started moving, burying his face against Kurt's neck as he slammed his hips down against Kurt's. Lights exploded behind Kurt's eyelids at the force, lightning coursing through his limbs as Blaine's frantic movements pushed him into oblivion. He barely remembered calling out his lover's name as he came over his fist, or the writhing orgasm that dropped Blaine on top of him.

For a while they slept, dozing in and out and shifting around into each other's embraces. Finally, when Kurt felt rested enough, they drew a bath and slipped into the tub, Kurt relaxing back against Blaine's chest. As always Blaine didn't talk much, he washed Kurt's hair, chest, and arms, kissing any new scars or cuts or patches of freckles or hair he found.

"I wish I could marry you," Kurt murmured as Blaine finished and kissed over his shoulders and up to his left cheek. "If we could have an heir together you'd be perfect. It would unite our kingdoms after a century of peace."

"You could always marry Rachel," Blaine suggested as he breathed over Kurt's neck. His breath was always hot, not smoky, but much warmer than the average human's. It reminded Kurt of a dragon's breath, only in a smaller, kinder dose. "Then both of our kingdoms might have heirs."

"Oh, shut up," Kurt snapped as Blaine pinched his ticklish spot. "I love Rachel, I do. But not in the way I love you. I'll never be able to love any woman like we love each other."

"No, we won't," Blaine agreed.

For a long time they relaxed together, sharing a few kisses and tender touches. After the water had started to go cold, and Blaine had heated it again with fire from his fingertips, he spoke.

"We could, you know. Have a child or children together."

"What?"

"We can have children," Blaine said thoughtfully.

Kurt turned to stare at him. "Sweetheart, I'm quite familiar with your anatomy and my own and I don't see how that's ever going to work."

"I'm a fire-breather," Blaine reminded him. "A lot of that old legend is myth, but there is some truth. Fire abilities," he raised his hand from the water and produced a small flame, "and being able to change our organs for a period of time. It's in my blood. If might even be in yours. The dragons that once existed in the caverns in the north of your kingdom are where your lineage gains its abilities. My great-grandfather and his husband did it. I've," he paused uncertainly and looked away from Kurt's gaze. "I've spoke to our palace witch-doctor about it and if I'm capable. He thinks there's a very good chance I can, with his help. If you want to. It's just something to think about. Or you could. If it'll work for either of us."

"Really? You'd do that? For us?"

"Kurt, we've spend part of the last three years picking out names for kids we'd like to have, if we could," Blaine reminded him. "I just took another step towards that, because I thought it might just work. We can try it at least, and if either of us can sustain the change and we're still fertile then–"

"I'll absolutely marry you," Kurt squeaked. He nearly dunked Blaine in his hurry to kiss him. "When– how soon can you try?"

"I go back to the palace in a fortnight," Blaine said, biting his lip to hold back his smile. "I'm sure you can make a journey then, to shout– I mean, meet with King Cooper."

"Definitely, he needs an ice shard up his ass," Kurt said. He kissed Blaine once more and beamed at him. "We– if this works, I'm so sick of turning down women offering themselves to me."

"Two weeks," Blaine said as Kurt rubbed his flat, tone stomach. "Then we'll know."


	12. Laser Tag

A/N: This is another one I really enjoyed writing. But I might just have a thing for badboy!Blaine and badboy!Kurt tropes. It's a thing. I can't help it, I swear. So yeah. No smut today, no warnings, just some silly boys and laser tag.

And Happy Valentine's Day! Tomorrow is **Make out Party!**

**Laser Tag**

"Puck, this is so stupid. I don't want to shoot people in the dark with lasers!"

"Come on, Hummel, you can't hang out with me if you don't play laser tag," Puck explained patiently. He straightened Kurt's pink coif and then his own Mohawk in the rearview mirror before they all climbed out of his truck. "We play laser tag. Even Quinn does. Don't you?"

Quinn smacked her bubblegum and picked at Kurt's newest ear piercing. "Should have placed that a little higher," she said. "Would you let me pierce your tongue?"

Kurt gave her a dirty look. "Not until you have a license." He jerked his ear out of her reach and rubbed the new piercing. It was his third overall, but the first not in the lobe. "Did you do your own eyebrow?"

They reached the counter and Puck slapped their complied money down for the cashier. "Two games for three. She pierced both my nipples," he added to Kurt. "You might try one of those."

Kurt grimaced and looked away. "I think I'll do another set of lobes first. Then eyebrow. What if I changed my coif to teal?"

Quinn tilted her head and straightened a few of his hairs. "I think the pink is better. Maybe a bright purple."

The cashier handed them their tickets for both games and they registered with their names. Puck took Puckzilla, Quinn chose IceQueen, and Kurt, after a lot of marking out, picked BroadwayStar. Puck snorted when he saw it, but Quinn kissed his cheek and laughed.

"Better you than me," she said, her voice thick and raspy. She always sounded like that when she spent all of seventh period under the bleachers with the Skanks. Kurt tried to stick to his classes, mostly for his dad's health, but he'd let her drag him outside a few times. The Skanks didn't like him, but even they went to class a few times a week.

"Come on," Puck called, "we've gotta get our guns before the good ones are gone."

"I'm going to hate this," Kurt mumbled as Quinn pulled him along behind Puck.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," she said.

"I haven't tried sex with a woman, but I know I won't like that. How is this any different?" Kurt argued.

"Just come on."

Kurt reluctantly followed her inside, picked a harness and let her help him fasten it. Puck was already hopping around and aiming his gun at everyone in their group. Kurt watched the rest file in. Most of them were teenagers, too. A few went to McKinley, but the majority, a large grouping of rowdy boys, weren't familiar to him.

As everyone suited up, the employees talked them through how to exit at the end, the rules, and how to find one of them if they needed to.

"All right," Puck muttered in his ear. "You take my left flank and watch for the bird's–"

"There's _birds_ in the room?"

"The bird's nest shooters," Puck snapped. "God, you don't even know–Quinn, cover me!"

And he dived through the door and out of sight. Quinn laughed and tugged Kurt along after him. It was dim as they followed Puck up a ramp and then another, through a set of tight turns, and then the lights dropped and their harnesses started glowing.

Kurt couldn't follow it. He was lousy and he didn't need Puck's shouts and snarls of outrage to tell him that. He tumbled and stumbled along after Quinn, finally losing sight of her pink locks through a maze under a large net.

"Ugh, this game is stupid."

A trio of young kids darted past as he tried to untangle his hand from his gun's rope.

"Got you! Got you again!"

Kurt glared after their glowing vests and stamped his foot. This was the worst game ever invented. Worst than getting thrown into lockers by the jocks all of last year or watching Mercedes bust the window on his baby. His dad still hadn't entirely let him off for that one. He turned in a circle and tried to spot Quinn or Puck, but they were gone.

His vest lit up as someone shot him again.

"You're going to get shot all game if you just stand here," a voice said from his shoulder.

Kurt turned around, gun raised. A boy from the rowdy group was standing beside him. He was slightly shorter with wild dark hair, an eyebrow ring, and a beautiful smirk. He winked at Kurt and shot him when his vest reactivated.

"You– ugh, I hate this game."

"Come on, I know a short cut," the boy said and he took Kurt by the hand and pushed through what had looked like a solid wall.

"Wait, who the hell are you?" They went up a steep ramp and suddenly Kurt found himself in a tiny little tower with an almost perfect view of the entire room. "How did you even know this was here?"

The boy grinned at him and took aim over the half-wall surrounding their little hide out. It was a cocky look, almost like the smile Kurt had been perfecting with Puck and Quinn's help all summer, but different. There was a brightness in that smile that caught inside Kurt and made something glow that hadn't existed before.

"Here," the boy guided Kurt's gun onto the railing beside his and helped him take aim. "Point and shoot."

There was a flash of a Mohawk several walls over and Kurt smiled as he lined up his shot.

* * *

"You _beat_ me?" Puck roared as their group's score card started strolling on the televisions around the little waiting room and arcade. "But you couldn't even keep your feet under your ass."

Kurt twirled his straw through his drink and watched the group sitting in the largest booth by the little smoothie stall. The boy from inside was over there, sitting on the right end while his friends reenacted their greatest laser tag moments.

"Who the hell is DapperDick? That fucker always wins! What the hell kind of name is that, anyway?"

The name flashed on the screen once more with the high score, beating all of them by almost ten thousand points. Quinn rolled her eyes as Puck stomped outside. Kurt continued to stare at the boy. He had no doubt that the boy was DapperDick with the way he'd shot up on the balcony. Nobody else had even come close to how many shots he'd landed. The boy suddenly looked up from his basket of fries, caught Kurt's eyes and gave him that smile again.

"You should ask him out," Quinn said.

Kurt jumped, knocked his drink over, and cursed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hottie over there," Quinn said, nodding her head towards the table of boys. "He's totally eye fucking you. What's his name?"

"DapperDick," Kurt replied with a mocking grin. "How should I know?"

"Well, you came out of there with him. Go talk to him, get his number at least," Quinn insisted. "I won't have you graduating next year without going on one date. Getting you laid might be asking for too much in this dead end town, but a date. It's right over there."

"I– this is ridiculous," Kurt said. He cleaned up his smoothie and set his cup right. "I don't even know him."

"That's why you go talk to him. God, do I have to explain everything to you?"

Someone cleared their throat beside Kurt and a basket of fries was set on the table.

"This seat looks like it could use an occupant." The boy from inside sat down beside him and Quinn had suddenly disappeared. "I'm Blaine, by the way. And you?"

"Kurt. My name's Kurt."

Blaine smiled once more and pushed the basket of fries towards him. "You guys staying for another round or am I going to have to make another night our first date?"

"I– you–"

Blaine only smiled at him as Kurt finally set his hands on the table and grabbed a fry. He chewed it slowly as Blaine laughed and tentatively took his other hand. His grip was stronger than during the game.

"Your hair's beautiful. I've been thinking about purple highlights."

Kurt looked at him, from his springy curls to his bright eyes and hopeful smile. "Maybe we could dye your hair for our second date. I've got an entire collection of colors at home."

"Really?" Blaine's voice squeaked and he ducked his head as his face flushed. "I mean, okay. Sure, that's cool."

"Yeah, cool." Kurt grabbed a napkin as the employees called for their second game. He scribbled his number down before he could second guess himself and passed it to Blaine. "Call me, cutie."

Kurt stood up and tried not to run as he hurried towards Quinn and Puck by the door to the launch room.

"Well?"

"Go away," Kurt snapped. "I'm on my first date."

Blaine met him at the door and clasped his hand again. "Ready to piss Mohawk off again?"

Kurt laughed and followed him inside.


	13. Make out Party

A/N: Make out Partaaaay! That's all that needs to be said.

**No Shave November **tomorrow! Enjoy!

**Make out Party**

"Dude, that's totally the worst superhero movie ever," Sam said. "Daredevil was awful. Ben Affleck was _awful_."

"He's not even that attractive," Blaine agreed. "Like, so he's got muscles? Big deal. Now Adam Levine–"

"God, would you shut up about that guy?" Puck rolled onto his stomach and buried his head under the couch cushion. "Mmhrrmpph."

"What?"

"MmHRRMpph."

Sam kicked his leg towards the couch and missed. Blaine stood up and stretched and reached for his coat.

"No, you can't leave before dinner again," Sam protested as Blaine slid the dark wool over his shoulders and started wrapping his scarf around his neck. "Come on, Rachel will be so mad again."

"I've got work tonight," Blaine said as he ducked Sam's grabbing arms and scooped his bag up. "That little dive down by campus needed a pianist for the evening and I got the spot. I've got to pay my rent somehow."

"Or you could just move in here," Sam repeated for the hundredth time. He'd been begging since he'd met Blaine on a street corner his first week in New York City. Four months later, Blaine still lived with his high school friends in a little loft close to campus.

"Maybe next year," Blaine said as always. "You guys are pretty crowded here anyway."

"Please, you've only met me and Rachel," Sam reminded him. "You're never here when Kurt gets home and I bet you'll love him so much you'll have to move in right away."

Blaine laughed and fitted his bag around his shoulders. "I'm sure I'll meet him some day, Sam." He waved at Sam, awkwardly patted the cushion Puck's head was under and headed for the door. "I'll see you at the corner tomorrow, okay? It was nice meeting you, Puck! Have a safe trip back!"

Puck flicked him off as Blaine rolled the door open and ran right into a towering stack of pizza boxes.

"Oh, sorry! Hi, Rachel! Bye, Rachel!"

"Blaine? No, come back! We're having pizza and Kurt will be back soon."

"Gotta run," Blaine's voice called from the stairwell. "Gig across town. I'll see you in class on Monday!"

Sam closed the door as Rachel dropped the pizzas onto the counter.

"You were supposed to keep him here," she snarled. "God, this is the fifth time he's run out the door when _you_ were supposed to keep him here until seven."

"I can't keep him from work," Sam said lamely. "We'll figure something out. Maybe you and Kurt can go to that diner by where we busk tomorrow."

"I have rehearsal tomorrow," Rachel snapped. "He'll never go to that part of town on his own. Not even if we tell him to. Why is this so impossible?"

Puck sat up and stared at them. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

Sam looked at Rachel's furious face and then towards the door. "We're trying to set Blaine and Kurt up."

Puck made a face, but Rachel clasped her hands in front of her and beamed. "They'd be so perfect together. God, I wish they had a class together. One look and I just know they'll be in love."

"How long have you two been trying to do this?"

"Since we met Blaine in August," Rachel said.

"You've been trying to set these dorks up for four months and they haven't even _met_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's Sam's fault!"

"You're the one who won't invite both of them to lunch with you and then run off!"

"Because lunch is when me and Kurt harmonize before our vocal lessons, Sam! At least I can keep him entertained for more than three hours."

Puck rolled his eyes and clomped over to the kitchen. "Where are those stupid Movie Party invitations your dumb asses made?" When they both gave him a stupid look, Puck slapped his hand on the counter. "Give me two of them _now_."

Sam scrambled off to his room and returned with the handmade invitations. They were simple photocopies of a hand-written invitation announcing "Movie Party at the Loft". Puck tugged the first two off the little pile and pulled a pen out of his pocket.

"What are you _doing_?"

Before Rachel could stop him, Puck crossed out Movie on both and wrote in "Make out" in thick, scratchy letters. "There," he said as he thrust them towards Sam. "Give one to Hummel and the other to that Dapper Dork and don't invite any guy who's even remotely bi. As long as you've got a few couples and it's even, then they'll be stuck with each other."

Rachel frowned down at the newly marked invitations. "But we've already picked out the movies and the cheese tray and–"

"It's only a make out party for them," Puck snapped. "Jeez, can't you two do anything without help?"

"I don't know if Kurt will go for this," Rachel said after a moment. "I mean, after that last guy he tried to date he's kind of sworn the whole thing off."

"Tell him you aren't inviting someone to make out with and you two can hole up in his room or something," Puck invented. "Just make sure he's here and that you're pretend kissing someone. And you," he poked Sam in the chest. "Tell that Benedork Cumberdick that you've got a hot gay guy that'll be there so he won't be left out. Tell him he's, like, one of your model friends. Hummel's beautiful enough for that. Think you two can handle that once I leave? Well?"

Rachel nodded as Sam gave a quick salute.

* * *

"A _what_? No. No, Rachel. I am _not_ going to a make out party," Kurt hissed as he yanked his curtains shut and threw his bag down on his bed. The curtains ruffled behind him.

"But, Kurt, it's going to be here, and then we'll watch movies after, like we'd originally planned," Rachel pleaded. "_Please_. You're going to be here anyway."

"There won't be anyone worth making out with," Kurt said moodily. "New York is full of losers."

"Well stay in here until we start the movies," Rachel said. "Come on, it'll be fun. We're going to watch _The Wizard of Oz _and _Mulan_ and a bunch of others. Please, please, please!"

"Ugh, all right, just let go of my coat so I can take it off."

Rachel squealed and hugged him before running off to her own room. Kurt pulled his coat off and rolled his eyes. This must have been Puck's idea. He should have known inviting him to visit for a few weeks would come back and kick him in the ass.

"If anyone starts having sex on my flea market couch I'm sterilizing them!"

* * *

"A make out party?" Blaine echoed as Sam forced the paper into his hand. He swallowed and tried to hand the paper back. "Not really my kind of thing. I mean, unless you have a gay guy there, but even then…"

"One of my friends is coming," Sam said quickly. "He's, like, really pretty and fit and he's definitely gay. I even asked to make sure."

"I– Sam, I dunno," Blaine frowned and tucked the paper into his pocket as Sam set up his guitar case on the sidewalk. "It's sort of weird, isn't it? Going to a party to make out with some stranger."

"But he's not a stranger," Sam said. "Trust me. You'll really like him, even if you two just, like, sit in the corner and smile at each other. And we're going to watch movies after. And eat all the Hanukkah cookies Rachel and Puck made. We're watching _Batman and Robin._ You can't miss that."

"All right," Blaine said reluctantly. "But if I don't wanna make out, I'm hiding in your room until we start movies."

"Awesome, great! Let's get to work. Movin' Out to start?"

* * *

The moment he was inside the loft apartment, Blaine's face started burning. Sam had opened the door, tossed his coat on the small heap by the door, and told him that he was the last there. Blaine stared around as Sam returned to the pretty brunette on the couch. Everyone was paired up just like he'd feared. Rachel was in some big man's lap, Santana and her girlfriend had taken over half the couch. He'd only met them once, but Dani played guitar like a dream.

"Sam? Um…"

Sam tugged his lips away from the woman's and glared at him. "Huh?"

"Where's, um," he meant to ask for this gay guy Sam had said he'd invited for him, but now he thought it was just a ploy to get him here. "Which room is yours again?"

Sam waved towards the left and went back to making out. Blaine quickly ducked down the little curtain lined hallway, glanced from one side to the other, and picked the one he thought he remembered being Sam's. He'd only been in Sam's room once and that had been months ago. He pulled the curtains closed behind him and almost screamed when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Bathroom's on the other side of Sam's," the man said. Blaine stared at him silently. He was a little taller than himself, with sharp features, beautiful eyes and lips that would undoubtedly make a wonderful smile.

"Oh, no, I was trying to hide until the movies, actually," Blaine admitted awkwardly. "I, well. Sam said he'd invited a guy so I won't be all alone, but they're all paired up and I don't think I could have anyway."

The other man ducked his head and dropped down on the bed. Blaine looked around at the furniture, the clothes hung in a long line across the room, and the beautiful display of scarves hung around the mirror. Kurt. This must be Kurt. The roommate he'd never met but that Sam and Rachel were always trying to get him to stay for.

"You're Kurt, right?" Kurt looked up at him in surprise. "I'm Blaine. They've been trying to introduce us for a while. I go to NYADA and play down on Howard with Sam a few nights a week."

Kurt looked him over and started laughing. Blaine glanced down at his clothes, but nothing was out of place. Maroon sweater half-buttoned over his favorite striped shirt; dark jeans, a little loose but cuffed at the ankles. Nothing out of place, not even his zipper.

"They're– I can't believe they went to all of this to set us up," Kurt said in disbelief. "Puck's behind this. I know it."

"The guy with the Mohawk and the snarl?"

Kurt laughed again, but it was gentler. Blaine's cheeks heated up as Kurt patted the bed beside him. "Yeah, that's Puck. He shaved it all off last year, but didn't like the tan lines. I guess we can just stay in here until they start movies or something. I'm sorry about this and them."

"It's okay," Blaine said quietly. "They're my friends, too, and well, at least Sam wasn't lying. There's definitely a beautiful man here like he said."

Kurt's smile froze and his cheeks turned pink. "I'm– you're the one who looks like a fifties movie star."

"Only because of the gel," Blaine said as he stared down at his lap. "I look like I'm wearing a clown wig someone dyed black without it."

Kurt laughed a third time, a more bashful, softer giggle than the first two. He tilted his head and smiled at Blaine. "You're cute when you blush."

"So are you," Blaine said. "So, um, I know we're technically at a make out party, but I'd rather just kiss you once and talk. If you want to."

Kurt leaned in and kissed him. It was quick, but soft, and made Blaine's toes curl in his shoes. Kurt made to move back, but Blaine cupped the back of Kurt's neck and pulled his mouth back to his.

"Maybe we should make out," Kurt murmured when they broke apart. "Like, wow, your lips are so soft. What lip balm do you use? It tastes a bit like–"

"Dr. Pepper," Blaine breathed. He pecked Kurt's parted lips as Kurt grabbed fistfuls of his sweater and pulled him on top of him on the bed. "Mmm, is that a tongue ring?"

Kurt grinned against his lips and nodded slightly. "Wanna see how it feels?"

Blaine hummed as Kurt's fingers curled into his hair. Across the apartment the beginning of _Batman and Robin_ started playing. "Aw, I love this movie."

"Pretty sure my invitation said Make out Party," Kurt said. "We can have a movie date night tomorrow or something."

"But–"

"Keep kissing me."

"We did it! Rachel, they're kissing!"

The curtains fluttered and several people from the living room started whistling and laughing.

"They're horrible," Blaine muttered as Kurt ran his tongue ring over Blaine's jaw. "Oh, wow. That's so cool."

"We'll get them back later."


	14. No Shave November

A/N: Another short one. Everything after this is about 1400 words or more. Some a lot more. Tomorrow's **Operation**. Enjoy!

**No Shave November**

Kurt woke up to an itchy crotch. He frowned and tried to roll over, but there was a body over his thighs and suddenly he realized a warm mouth was sinking down on him. A warm mouth lined with thick, itchy stubble.

"Ugh, Blaine, your mouth feels like a scrub brush."

He felt Blaine frown around him and pull back with a pop. "That's the least sexy thing you've ever said when I've woken you up with a blow job."

Kurt flung the covers over Blaine's head and stared down at his bearded boyfriend. For the first week, the No Shave November idea had been fun, even sexy. It had been nice to see Blaine ungelled and unshaven now that he was in New York with him. Blaine had had stubble for the first time in Kurt's memory and feeling that rough scratch whenever Blaine kissed him had been exhilarating. But now, three days from December, Blaine had a full, thick, grizzly beard and Kurt had never hated facial hair, or Sam's ideas, more.

"You look like a werewolf," Kurt said, dropping his head back onto his pillow and shutting his eyes. "No blow jobs until you shave that thing. I don't need beard burn on my dick."

"But–" Blaine stroked him slowly and gave the underside of his cock a scratchy kiss. "I want to feel you in my throat. Don't you? When you start pulsing and thrusting like you can't help it because of how tight and _hot_ and–"

"Shut up and shave," Kurt said. "Your words don't work this late in the month."

Blaine groaned and stroked Kurt's cock gently a few more times. "I'm never listening to Sam's dumb ideas ever again."

* * *

But Blaine did. The next year, a little over a week before their wedding, Sam and Blaine made the same pact as before: if one of them caved they had to do something crazy that the other decided on.

"Blaine, we are getting married in _two days_," Kurt snarled. "You look like a hobo!"

"It's only been a week," Blaine protested. "It's not that bad."

Kurt dragged him into the bathroom and placed him in front of the mirror. Blaine winced a little at the sight. What had been stubble three days ago was well on its way to being a thick dark beard.

"Oh, well," Blaine paused and turned his head to admire the sides. "I have to shave, don't I?"

"Yes, you do, Mr. I-Want-A-November-Wedding."

"But it's the day we first met," Blaine said. "We couldn't pass that up, not after I proposed where we first met."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's razor and a canister of shaving cream from the rack by the toilet. "Shave it, almost-husband."

"Fine," Blaine sighed and turned the water on. "But you're doing whatever Sam decides with me. And he'll pick something really dumb like last year."

"You're the one who shaved three days before December so that you could blow me," Kurt reminded him as Blaine started lathering up his cheeks. "I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad."

"That was, hands down, the best blow job I've ever given," Blaine said as Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and watched him start on his right cheek. "My throat was raw for a week."

"Mmm," Kurt kissed the newly shaven spot and tucked his chin over Blaine's shoulder. "I did black out pretty hard."

Behind them, Sam appeared, yawning and in his boxers. "Hey, guys, what's– _I win again! Ha!"_

Blaine glowered at the doorway as Sam raced off, still shouting and whooping. "Only because I'm getting married," Blaine mumbled. "We should have done Valentine's Day like you wanted."

Kurt shook his head as Blaine continued shaving off his stubble. But a week after their honeymoon when they returned to New York and officially moved into their own apartment a block away, Kurt had to agree. There was a box on the kitchen counter with a note in Sam's messy, jumbled writing: _Wear these when you met us in Rockefeller for the tree lighting. Rachel's bringing the camera for your first official Christmas card as husbands!_

Inside, was a matching pair of Santa Hats and two tiny thongs in the shape of long candy canes.

Underneath those was another note taped to a box of ornaments: _Don't forget to put on your Jingle balls! xoxo Rachel_

Beside him, Blaine held one of the little thongs up to his hips. "We have the worst taste in best friends."

* * *

"Papa, why are you and Daddy nakie in that picture?"

Blaine blushed as their oldest, five-year-old Abigail, clambered onto his lap and pointed at the enormous picture hung over the fireplace. Burt and Carole had laughed themselves right out of their lungs when they'd received it that first Christmas they'd been married. Ten years later, it still hung in a much larger form over the fireplace back in Lima every Christmas.

"That was Papa and Daddy's first Christmas card as husbands," Blaine explained as Kurt came in with a tray of hot cocoa. "Your Uncle Sam and me made a silly bet and I lost."

"Oh," Abigail said as Kurt handed her a little sippy cup. "Is Teagan gonna get one when he's older to cover his wee-wee?"

Burt choked and dribbled hot cocoa down his front. Beside him, Carole paused in rocking baby Teagan in her arms.

"No, sweet pea," Kurt said as he glared over at his father. "They don't make those anymore unless they're to punish someone. Ruthie, sweetie, you can't unwrap those yet."

As Kurt tugged the two-year-old out from under the tree, Burt leaned over to Blaine.

"We'll take it down after they go to bed."


	15. Operation

A/N: Another day, another letter. This one is pretty fluffy and cute. Lots of kid!Klaine afoot. **Pokemon** is tomorrow aka remnants of my childhood clattering across the keyboard. As always, enjoy!

**Operation**

"Daddy, I don't wanna go here," Kurt said as his father led him into his school. It was super early and super cold. Why was he here before the sun got up? "Mommy never made me get up this early!"

His father sighed and squatted down in front of him. They were just inside the front doors. The front lobby was dim and the first grade and kindergarten hallway beyond it was a dark hole.

"Bud, you remember your mommy is gone now, right?"

"Uh huh. Auntie Catherine said she went to Heaven, but that I can't go there," Kurt said sullenly. "But why can't I? If it's a place then we should just get in the car and go after her."

"It doesn't work like that with Heaven," his father told him. "Look, it's just you and me now, Kurt. I know it's hard to understand, but that's how it is now. Okay?"

Kurt nodded, but let his tears fall anyway. He didn't want to sit in the dark, empty school for _hours_ before everyone else got here.

"You're gonna be here in the mornings before school when I work, and the same with the afternoons. Just like we talked about," his father reminded him. "There's lots of other kids that get dropped off by their parents, too. You'll have lots of other boys and girls to play with. That Oscar kid that was at your birthday party goes to SAC. So does his older sister."

Oscar was a rude, dirty boy as far as Kurt was concerned. He'd only invited him because his mommy had said _everyone_ in his class should be invited. But Kurt didn't like him. He tugged on Kurt's ties and scuffed up his shiny shoes and called him a baby and a princess whenever he went and played with the girls.

"Hey, shh, no more tears," his father murmured as he pulled him into a tight hug. "You're going to have all sorts of fun here. You know what? I bet you make a best friend before the week is over."

"Really?"

His father stood up and took his hand. "Yeah. Come on, bud. Let's go get you signed in."

They headed into the dim lobby and then to the left wall where one of the cafeteria doors was propped open. The lights were mostly on in here. Not like they were during lunch time, but it was bright enough to be considered lit. Kurt clung to his father's leg as they stopped at one of the tables set up by the door. There was a big cardboard sign set up on it and then a sign-in sheet with half a dozen names already on it. His father scribbled theirs down as a young woman approached.

"You must be Burt Hummel."

His father shook hands with her and while they talked Kurt glanced past his father's thigh to the eight tables set up by the stage. There was another adult – a large, black man with a shiny head – and a handful of children scattered around. Most of them were a lot older than Kurt. They were playing board games from what he could see and there was a small pile of boxes left at an empty table.

"Kurt? I'm Miss Jenny. Are you ready to have some fun before breakfast?"

Kurt stared up at his father, who nudged him forward. "Go on. I'll be here to pick you up after school."

"After class?" Kurt asked fearfully. He didn't know if he could stand being here after class, too.

"Yeah, I'll meet you outside on the stairs. Same spot as always."

Miss Jenny's smile was like looking directly at the sun. Kurt blinked to clear his eyes as she took his hand and showed him where he could put his backpack and bagged lunch. Then she led him towards the games and other kids.

"We like to set up board games for everyone in the mornings," she told him. "It's early, so we try to be calm and quiet. Do you want to play Sorry with Bridget and Terry?"

Kurt glanced where she was pointing and shook his head. Those were fifth graders. They'd only bully him or call him a baby. He looked over the big pile of boxes and finally spotted one he liked.

"Operation?" Miss Jenny smiled widely. "That's a fun one. Do you–"

There was a high screech from another table. A little boy, probably kindergarten, was in tears and waving his Monopoly dog around. Miss Jenny raced off to settle him and Kurt was left to pick a table for himself and the game. He took the empty one farthest away from the others and set the game up. Before long he was happily trying to pluck the funny bone out without zapping the poor Operation man.

"Oh, boy! You like Operation, too?"

Kurt's head shot up as another boy hopped onto the bench across from him. He was smaller than himself with neatly parted, dark hair, pointy eyebrows, and a big purple bow tie around his neck.

"Nobody else _ever_ wants to play Operation with me," the boy continued, getting up on his knees to lean over the game. "Oh, the funny bone! I hate that one. So does Dr. Doug Ross! He's really pretty, too. Here, lemme try!"

Before Kurt could understand half of what the other boy had said, the tweezers were plucked from his hands. With his tongue poking out and his funny eyebrows lowered, the other boy made a grab for the funny bone.

_Buzzzz!_

"Dang it."

He sat back down and handed the tweezers back to Kurt. "I can't ever get that one. My name's Blaine, by the way."

"Kurt."

"It's nice to meet you!" Blaine said, grinning over at him as Kurt concentrated on pulling the funny bone out. He'd just gotten it with the tweezers when a loud voice made him jump.

"Squirt! Blaine! Would you come over here? You forgot your lunch again!"

Blaine darted away with so much force the table rolled.

_ Buzzzzz!_

"Sorry!" Blaine called over his shoulder. Kurt glowered after him and watched as he raced over to a teenage boy that must have been his brother. He passed Blaine a Ninja Turtle lunch box and then hurried out. Blaine flung it away where their bags and coats were and hurried back to Kurt. "Did you get it?"

"No," Kurt said sadly. He glared down at the little bone. "You made the table roll."

Blaine gave him a sheepishly look. "Sorry. I get excited about Operation sometimes. Are you new? I haven't seen you here before."

"No, well, kinda," Kurt admitted. "I didn't go to SAC before, but I do now 'cause it's just me and Daddy now."

"Oh, is your Daddy nice?"

"Uh huh, he's the best daddy in the world," Kurt explained. "He's the best there ever was."

He expected an argument to follow, for Blaine to insist his own father was the greatest like the other boys always did. But he didn't. Instead he nodded and waved his hand over the funny bone slot.

"I bet you can get it this time. I'll even be extra quiet and still," Blaine said.

"Okay." Kurt steady his right hand with his left and slowly inched it down.

"Careful, _careful_," Blaine whispered, his hands half covering his eyes as the tweezers passed the metal frame. "Oh gosh, Kurt, _be careful_. Don't hurt Barney!"

"Barney?" Kurt repeated as he got a hold of the funny bone. "Who–"

"Barney," Blaine said as he jabbed a finger at the man's face on the board. "He gets really mad if you buzz him. His nose lights up and he makes that awful noise."

Kurt slowly retracted his hand as Blaine grimaced and winced and squirmed in terror. "Aha! I got it!"

"Oh, good job, Kurt." Miss Jenny was back with her radiant smile. "Are you boys ready for breakfast? There's sausage and egg sandwiches today. I know those are your favorite, Blaine."

"Oh, boy! Come on, Kurt! We can't miss out!" Blaine leapt up, a pinball of energy shortly after dawn. He circled around and took Kurt by the hand. "You can sit next to me!"

As Blaine tugged him along towards the breakfast line, Kurt beamed. None of the other children ever wanted to sit with him, and they definitely never took him by the hand. Maybe his father was right about finding a best friend here.


	16. Pokemon

A/N: Mmm, Pokémon. Cute roomies!Klaine, a mild Eevee problem, and a teenage Charmeleon. Also, this is slightly altered from Pokémon canon universe since they're at a university.

**Pokémon**

"What's the room number?"

"206!" Blaine called as he trampled up the stairs. His dormitory at the Pokémon University. His home for the next five years. He beamed and hurried after his older brother.

"Hurry up and open the door, Squirt," Cooper called from behind his armful of Blaine's possessions.

Blaine charged forward, bag swinging around his hips, and pulled his brand new student ID out of his pocket. He slid it into the little silver lock on the door and it flashed green. Cooper toppled inside and Blaine hurried after him, letting the door slam closed.

He was finally here, after years of hoping and waiting to see if he'd be accepted. Even Cooper hadn't been accepted to Pokémon University like their father, but Blaine had done his absolute best in school since his first day. He'd been a model student, kind and caring and encouraging, acing every test right up to the end of his public school education. Now, at fourteen, he was ready to begin his real study of Pokémon and, in another week or two, he'd have his very own Pokémon to befriend.

"It's not a bad size for a dorm," Cooper said as he relieved himself of Blaine's boxes on one of the bare beds. "Let's get you set up before your roommate gets here. What's his name again?"

Blaine pulled the information card from his pocket. "Kurt Hummel, but he's not coming in until tomorrow. Today's A through G."

"Awesome. I can crash with you tonight then." Cooper ruffled his head of curls and darted towards the door. "Race you back to the lobby!"

* * *

Kurt huffed as he stomped up the stairs to his dormitory. It was his first day at Pokémon University and his dad was _babying_ him. He glowered at the broad, flannel back in front of him as they stopped at the second floor.

"This is the floor," Burt said, looking through the door at the long hallway. "206 should be–"

"It's right in front of you, Dad, _honestly_."

Kurt shouldered past him and started to dig his card out to open the room's door. The handle jiggled and suddenly a boy his age and a little taller was standing in front of him. From the little of his face Kurt could see, he looked handsome behind his curtain of dark curls.

"Oh, hi! You must be Kurt!"

The boy stepped back against the little sink and mirror lining the entry way as Kurt stumbled through and dumped his bags on the floor.

"Do you need any help?"

Kurt looked at the eager face and tried his best to smile. It wasn't something he was used to doing. Back in their small town all the kids made fun of him; for his dream, his voice, his clothing. Nobody was ever nice to him for long. In another week, this boy would be his academic competitor. He wouldn't be so smiley then.

"Sure," Kurt said, eyeing his roommate suspiciously. But the boy only beamed and helped him carry his bags into the rectangular room they would share. It was slightly bigger than his room at home, and Kurt knew all of his clothes would never fit with only a small wooden wardrobe and a squat dresser. He'd have to visit home and change them out with the seasons.

"I hope you don't mind," Blaine was saying as he hoisted Kurt's shoes bag onto the bare bed. "My brother's still here. He stayed the night to help me get settled and, well, sort of slept on your mattress."

Kurt looked at the mattress and shrugged after a moment. Countless other boys had slept there over the years. "It's fine."

His dad shuffled in and set down a few bags he'd carried upstairs. "Looks like you've gotten all set up," he said to Blaine. Kurt looked at the other side of the room, too. The bedding was a soft vanilla with hues of red; several posters were on the walls of evolution schemes and maps of the world; a thread rug was at the foot of the bed and his desk was already set up with different books and pictures. It wasn't much but it would go well with what Kurt had planned. At least this boy had good tastes.

"My name's Blaine, by the way."

"Kurt, but you already knew that."

"Right, yeah," Blaine said. He twisted his hands behind his back and continued smiling. "I, um, I can go for a little while if you want. I had all of that time to set up by myself, so–"

"If you want," Kurt said.

"Okay," Blaine said, shuffling past them towards the door. But then he darted back and scooped up the lanyard on the desk. "Forgot my card, sorry. Bye. It was nice to meet you, sir. I'll see you later, Kurt!"

Kurt stared after him, feeling annoyed. Of course he had to get a perky roommate, one that no doubt had some hidden scheme to destroy his academic career and get him removed from the Trainer Academy within the University.

"He seems nice," Burt said as they started unpacking his bags. "Looks like his decorating won't upset you too much."

Kurt glowered at his dad and rolled his eyes. "He's competition, Dad. For the next five years he's going to be the enemy."

Burt sighed and sat down in his desk chair. "This boy is going to be your roommate, Kurt. You two are sharing this room for five years. And I know you're here on a scholarship and you have to do well, but that doesn't mean you can't make friends. At least try, even if it's only with him. He could make your life hell if you do the same to him."

Instead of answering, Kurt hoisted his bag of shoes off the bag and started lining them up under the head of his bed.

* * *

An hour after he'd said goodbye to his father, Blaine and an older man returned to the room. Kurt stayed at his desk, scrolling through his brand new PokéDex and flipping through his old journals and books on all the various Pokémon in the world. Classes didn't start for another week, and he had yet to pick his schedule, but he wanted to brush up on his knowledge as much as possible.

"All right, Squirt," the man said. "It's time for me to get going. Cerulean City is a long trip."

Despite himself, Kurt found his eyes drawn to the doorway. This man was way too young and attractive to be Blaine's father, surely. He looked at most ten years old than them.

Blaine flung himself against the other man, his curls barely peeking over his shoulder. "I love you, Coop," Kurt heard him mumble. "You'll visit and write, won't you?"

"Did I or did I not save up all year to get us those fancy laptops so that we could email and video chat?"

Blaine stepped back and rubbed his eyes. "Uh huh."

"And do I or do I not know how to write letters to my favorite little brother?"

"I'm your only little brother."

"Come here," Coop said as Kurt set his PokéDex down and watched the tender exchange. "You are going to be amazing here, okay?" he hugged Blaine tight and kissed his curls. "Mom and Dad would be so proud of you getting in here on a scholarship. And I know they love you as much as I do."

The two brothers embraced for several minutes, finally pulling away so that Coop could head out. "I'll see you soon, Blaine! Study hard and make friends!"

"I will!"

For the next hour, Blaine shuffled around behind Kurt while he continued memorizing and studying. Kurt hoped it would stay like that. Soon enough Blaine would meet the rest of their hall and have friends to go run off with. Then Kurt could spend all of his time in the room, studying and being the best Pokémon trainer in the world. Blaine suddenly appear a few feet to his left, right by Kurt's newly made bed.

"Your comforter's really beautiful," Blaine said. "They didn't have anything like that in Cerulean. I'm from there. Well, my parents grew up in Lavender Town, but me and my brother moved there when they died a few years ago."

Kurt clenched his jaw as Blaine leaned against his bed post.

"A- are you from around here?"

"Vermilion," Kurt bit out.

"Oh, that's not that far, right?"

Kurt shrugged and clicked a few buttons on his PokéDex. If he seemed disinterested, then Blaine would leave him alone.

"Do you know which Pokémon will be your starter?"

Another shrug.

"Or the cafeteria here," Blaine pressed. "I've heard the food is pretty awful."

Kurt made a noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt.

"Have you looked at the class list yet?" Blaine continued, smiling brightly. "There was one – it's an upper level class, so we can't take it yet – but it's about Pokémon in Queer and Feminist theory and it sounded really–"

"Do you _mind_? I'm trying to study," Kurt snapped, setting his PokéDex down.

A hurt look crumbled Blaine's grin and Kurt felt a twist of guilt in his belly. His dad would be so disappointed if he could see him right now. "Oh, right, sorry," Blaine said quietly. "I just– classes don't start until next week, and I just thought we could get to know each other. Be friends or something."

When Kurt only looked at him, Blaine bit his lip and shuffled back to his desk. "Sorry."

For several minutes Kurt stared at his desk, at the picture of himself and his dad, and the one tucked just behind it of his mother and himself at eight. It couldn't hurt to have one friend. At least then he'd have someone to talk to about classes, to help him if he didn't understand something, and to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with.

"Charmander," Kurt said. "I think I want to start with a Charmander. I like fire Pokémon."

Blaine suddenly vaulted onto Kurt's bed and leaned down over the desk, hanging right in front of Kurt's face. "I'm going to start with Eevee. They're positively cute!"

Kurt leaned back in alarm and stared up at his roommate. This boy was hyper and possibly insane.

"Is that your mom?" Blaine tilted the picture of Kurt and Burt back to see it. "Wow, she's beautiful. You look just like her. I look like my mom, too. Except the eyes. And the eyebrows." Blaine raised his eyebrows and the little triangles turned into sharp points on his forehead. "They're like little boomerangs."

Kurt grinned and laughed a little at the adept descriptions. "So what other classes are there? I know there's certain ones we're required to take for the first three years. Like languages and Pokémon anatomy courses."

"There's all sorts," Blaine said, setting the picture back down. "There's psychology and history and labs, and then there's training courses. I'm in the Trainer Academy, but I know this one girl down the hall is in the Evolution Academy. I think her name was Quinn. Anyway–"

As Blaine babbled on, Kurt listened and eventually took a seat on his bed next to Blaine, flipping through the thick course catalogue and deciding what they should take for their first semester.

* * *

By then end of his first semester, Kurt was Blaine's best friend. They spent all of their free time together, at meals, studying in the library, and their little Pokémon they were given at the start of their second semester, spent most of the day curled up in the little bed they'd made for them. Blaine loved being at the University, and when it came time to return home for the summer he was miserable. All summer he prattled on about Kurt. How Kurt loved this or how Kurt had said that, until Cooper was quite glad to send him back.

But the moment he arrived the day before classes and said hi to Kurt, his best friend was furious with him.

"Kurt, what–"

Kurt ducked around him and dropped down at his desk. Charmander scuttled over and hugged Blaine's calf tightly while his Eevee stayed curled around his neck. That was her favorite place to lay, and Blaine loved her all the more for it.

"Did I do something wrong?" Blaine cleared his throat as his voice squeaked. It had started doing that only days after he'd gotten home, and was now a nice, solid tenor except for a few cracks. "Kurt?"

"I– _your voice_," Kurt finally snapped. He twisted around in his chair and glared at Blaine. "It changed."

"So?" Blaine said in puzzlement. "We're fifteen. That kind of things happens. Wait, are you _mad_ at me because my voice changed?"

"That's not– you sound stupid!"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Kurt snarled. His face was burning red as he tugged Charmander away from Blaine's legs. "It sounds nasally and stupid and awful."

"Just because mine dropped over the summer and yours didn't doesn't mean you have to be so rude," Blaine shouted. He stamped his foot, snatched up his bag and huffed loudly. "Fine, just _fine._ I'll go read the articles for tomorrow in the library. You just wait and see if I bring you back a coffee!"

Blaine stormed out, Eevee barely clinging around his neck as he stamped down the stairs.

It was their first, and most ridiculous, fight.

* * *

"Danny, stop– no, I have to go. I've got to study, okay? Yeah, I'll see you for dinner tomorrow."

Kurt gritted his teeth as Eevee leapt from Blaine's neck and snarled at the boy currently tugging Blaine in for, what Kurt considered, a gross kiss.

"Eevee, don't be so mean!" Blaine scolded as he shut their room door after his boyfriend. "Danny's a great guy."

Eevee scampered over to Kurt and dropped down in his lap. "Eevee!" she screeched at Blaine.

"Duh, he's a boy," Blaine replied. He rolled his eyes and took his bag off. "So am I. So is Kurt and you adore him!"

Eevee glowered at Blaine and curled herself around Kurt's neck.

Blaine huffed and started digging his books out of his bag. "Will you talk some sense into her?"

"Why would I do that?" Kurt asked. "She's smarter than you. I mean, why would anyone want to date a guy who kisses with his _tongue_?"

"I– oh my god," Blaine said in disbelief. "That's– nevermind. If you don't know yet, you'll figure it out."

"Vee vee!" Eevee squealed as Blaine dragged his chair over.

"Danny is not gross!"

By the end of the week, Blaine and Danny broke up. Kurt wasn't sure why he was so relieved, but he was glad to have dinner with Blaine again.

* * *

Half way through their third year, Charmander and Kurt decided he was ready for his first evolution. Blaine, unlike the rest of their year, had opted out of evolving Eevee, and when Kurt found out how rebellious and obnoxious Charmander was as Charmeleon, he wished he'd opted out, too.

"Would you stop setting my pillow on fire?" Kurt flung the charred remains at Charmeleon, who gave a little roar and darted towards the bathroom. "You're such a teenager!"

Blaine shuffled in cautiously, Eevee's furry head poking out of his zipped up jacket. "How safe is it?"

"He's a monster!"

"So was Ray," Blaine said sadly. "I went to meet him for our date, right? He was cozied up in a booth with that floozy Shirley. Can you believe him? He asked _me_ out!"

"And you wonder why I don't try to date the people around here," Kurt said. He planted his hands on his hips and snarled again. "Ugh, he's destroyed half my wardrobe. I am never getting another fire Pokémon again!"

"You should get an Eevee when we get our second ones next month," Blaine said. He flopped down on his bed and cuddled up with little Eevee. "She's the sweetest, most perfect little creature in the world. Yes, you are, Eevee!"

Eevee preened and rubbed her head against Blaine's chin.

From the bathroom, their suite-mate screamed and Charmeleon came charging out, nostrils pouring smoke.

"Would you keep that thing in a PokéBall, Hummel? I'd like to keep my body as is if you don't mind!"

"Sorry!"

Charmeleon ducked under Kurt's newly fire-proofed bed frame as Blaine slammed the bathroom door shut and turned their new fan on. Kurt propped the window open to let out the smoke pouring out from under his bed.

"He'll get better once he's more used to his strength," Blaine said as Eevee jumped across to Kurt's bed and hung her head down to look underneath. "Eevee's going to wait a few more years, I think. There's so many options for her after all. I don't want to rush her."

"You should think about doing the same with your dating life," Kurt said before he could stop himself. "There's been a long parade of losers past our doorway recently."

"Oh, shut up," Blaine snapped. "I just– I want _romance_. I can't have that if I don't look. Besides, kissing is fun if the other guy doesn't slobber all over your chin."

"Ugh, do they actually do that?" Kurt made a face as he turned away from his homework.

"That Brian guy did," Blaine said. He grimaced. "He wasn't very nice anyway. But some of them are good kissers. Taylor was _fantastic_. And then Roger did this one thing with his tongue that just–"

"What's it feel like?" Kurt asked suddenly. Blaine paused and stared at him. "Kissing, like, it just looks so… wet. And gross. Everyone on campus is just slobbering all over each other."

"It's really nice if you do it right," Blaine said quietly. He hopped up and tugged Kurt to his bed. "Here, I'll show you!"

"What?" Kurt squawked loudly as Blaine sat down beside him.

"Well, the best way to know is by experiencing it," Blaine deduced. "And, I mean, I think I'm an okay kisser and I promise not to slobber all over you or anything." He stared down at Kurt's lips like he was sizing up an Onix. "Your lips look ready."

"_What?_" Kurt repeated. His already high voice squealed up an octave as Blaine tilted his head and kept staring at his mouth.

"They aren't chapped or anything," Blaine explained. "They're actually really nice looking. Kind of plump and soft."

Kurt only stared at Blaine. It felt like his eyes were about to roll out of their sockets and onto the floor. "I–well–I take good care of myself. S- skin care is important."

"So can I show you?" Blaine asked. "I mean, just as friends. But if you won't date and you want to know, well…"

"O- okay," Kurt found his voice saying and then Blaine's lips were pressed against his. It was a warm, dry pressure at first. Blaine's mouth was somehow soft but firm and felt nothing like how it looked on every stairwell around campus. Kurt barely remembered to shut his eyes as Blaine's lips moved, tentatively at first and then stronger, puckering out to let them breathe, and then pressing back in just once for a second, soft kiss.

"Well?" Blaine breathed as he leaned back. "H- how was that?"

"I–well–" Kurt stared at Blaine in disbelief, his stomach leaping and his head full of fluff. Beside him, Blaine's eyes were dark, his face surprised, but by what Kurt couldn't be sure. "You, um, y- you kind of caught me off guard," Kurt finally said. "I'm not sure what to think."

"Oh," Blaine said, looking disappointed. Then he brightened a little and scooted in closer. "Maybe I should kiss you again. With warning, of course. So you can access all the different parts of it this time."

Kurt blushed but played along. "Yeah, I think so. And I don't think I can have a full understanding if I don't at least try that tongue thing everyone's so fond of. Okay?"

Blaine smiled as he leaned back in and pecked him on the lips. "Okay."

* * *

"I can't believe we're graduating," Blaine said as they curled up after their last training exam.

"I can't believe we survived Charmeleon's teenage blues," Kurt mumbled against his neck.

From under the bed, Charmeleon roared softly in protest.

"Oh, shut up, you big baby," Kurt called down to him. "You know you were. You'll be just as bad when you evolve into Charizard when we're out of the road."

"I'm so glad Jolteon skipped that phase," Blaine teased. Across the room, Jolteon preened softly in her sleep while two little Eevees curled up against her belly. "They're so cute together. Like a little Eevee family."

"That's because you have a serious Eevee problem," Kurt reminded him. " _I_ caught a Vulpix and a Caterpie unlike _some_ people."

"Hey!" Blaine said, sitting up and frowning at him. "It's Eeveelution! We took an entire course on it!"

"Which is why I never want to hear that word again," Kurt cut in.

"I love my Eevee babies and I'm going to have one each of their final forms. I think Eeveen wants to be Umbreon, but I'm not sure about Eeveeon. I think he's still too young to know where he wants to go."

"Oh my god, you're ridiculous," Kurt said. He sat up, too, and looked around their room at the boxes and bags and the belts of PokéBalls waiting for them. "I'm going to find all of them someday. You can stick to your Eevee horde."

"I will," Blaine said brightly. "And maybe a Jigglypuff. They're pretty adorable, too. Oh, and a Pikachu! Remember that one we got to take care of for that Disease and Treatment class? He was precious."

Kurt shook his head fondly and shut his boyfriend up with a kiss.

"Do you think we're ready?" Blaine asked as they settled back down together. "I mean, we're just going to wander and battle and train and find Pokémon until we have bad knees."

"Or kids," Kurt reminded him. "We're still having at least two."

"But no more than five," Blaine finished. He smiled at Kurt and kissed him on the cheek. "As long as I can have lots of Eevees, I think we'll be okay."

"I'm limiting you to seven," Kurt said. "One of each final form and that's it."

Blaine's face fell. "You mean I can't have all the final forms _and_ cute little Eevee who doesn't evolve? But _Kurt_–"

"Okay, fine," Kurt relented. "I mean, I'm finding all of the Pokémon in the known world, so I guess you can fill our house with eight Eevees. The kids'll love them."

"As much as I love you?"

"Not possible."


	17. Quintuplets

A/N: Klaine with multiples, that's your warning for this one. Lots of babies. Many babies. Wow, babies.

Side note, this is definitely one of my top five for being continued in another short because of how much potential there is with the idea. It'll probably be a long time before I do continue any of this, if I ever do. But consider this one a top candidate because I really enjoy writing kids, especially Klaine with kids.

Another note, I've changed Kurt's middle name from the assumed canon one. It'll make sense when you get to it.

**Role-play **is tomorrow, which means (you guessed it) smut. Quite a shift between these two when it's all in order.

**Quintuplets**

_ "Five?_ What do you mean _five?"_

Blaine wasn't sure if Kurt was going to start hyperventilating before him or not. Three months ago they'd been excited just to hear their surrogate was pregnant after six months of trying. Artificial insemination had been an option, but with advances in technology in recent decades few gay couples chose that route. Now they could combine their own DNA together, thanks to a breakthrough in 2026. It made implanting the embryo tougher, but their baby would genetically be theirs.

"It happens a lot," Doctor Gibbons explained. "We use several fertilized embryos because usually one out of a dozen take. In a lot of cases, as you've experienced over the last several months, none take."

"And you're telling us _five_ took?" Kurt repeated. Blaine could see his eyes growing larger each second. His husband was thrilled to be a father, but having one single life in their hands was terrifying for both of them. Hearing that they would soon be the fathers of quintuplets hadn't even factored into their plans. Or bank account.

"Kurt, it's– well, it's a lot. It is," Blaine said, trying to calm Kurt and his own heart rate with his words. "But we'll figure it out?"

"How am I going to have the time to make outfits for _five_, Blaine?" Kurt demanded. His pupils had taken over his eyes, blown with absolute panic. "Or feed them? Or the _diapers_, Blaine. We're going to need an entire room just for _diapers._"

Blaine sat back as Kurt started taking deep breaths and the doctor started sliding pamphlets across his desk towards them. Their office would have to be cleaned out, everything sold, the piano could be auctioned to someone–or a new house. A bigger house. Their little three bedroom was cozy enough for them plus baby, but not them plus _five babies_.

"What about Jackie?" Kurt's voice finally said. Blaine had become so lost in his thoughts and silent panic he hadn't even thought about their carrier. "Is she okay? Won't this be really difficult on her?"

"We have a multiples group in the area that we've given her contact information for," Doctor Gibbons explained. "And all the information I'm giving you," he pointedly pushed the pamphlets towards them, "was given to her yesterday. There's a definite chance of premature birth with any cases of multiples. I've helped deliver dozens over the years, and I assure you I will be here every step of the way to make sure Jackie and the babies are in the least amount of danger possible."

They both nodded, asked a few more questions, and answered Jackie's text messages that they hadn't understood an hour ago.

_ Are you guys mad?_

_ No. Of course not. Just startled, but still thrilled_.

Blaine sent the message as Dr. Gibbons stood. Kurt was wringing his hands and Blaine could already see his eyes starting to itch with the need to start counting sugar packets, or re-organizing their closet by fabrics and then colors. He'd done the same thing when Burt had gone in to have minor knee surgery three years ago.

"Happy Holidays and I'll see you and Jackie after the first of the year," Dr. Gibbons shook both of their hands. "We'll talk more extensively then when we aren't all rushing home for the holidays."

* * *

"You two look like you've been hit by a bus," Burt said when they'd all piled into his truck at the airport in Columbus.

Blaine and Kurt said nothing from the backseat. Their eyes were fixed forward, their hands joined in the space between them. Their grip was so tight it made Burt's own hand ache. Burt glanced at Carole, who shrugged and glanced back at them, too. They'd been weird since they'd landed. Shell-shocked. That was the best way Burt could think to put it.

"Guys?"

"Five," Blaine said dazedly. "What are we supposed to do with five babies?"

Burt and Carole frowned at each other.

"You boys aren't starting a daycare business, are you? Cause I gotta tell you, you're gonna have your hands full enough with just one come June," Burt said.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Kurt said weakly. He rolled the window down and threw up on the car parked next to them.

Carole was outside immediately, helping Kurt out and rubbing his back. Burt looked to Blaine for an answer.

"Jackie had her check up on Tuesday," Blaine said, his eyes still fixed on some point out the windshield. "She's having quintuplets."

Burt could only gape at his son-in-law as Blaine opened his own door and threw up, too.

* * *

The drive home was tense. Carole hopped into the backseat with the boys, squeezing in between their trembling bodies and cradling one on each side. Burt tried to wrap his mind around what he'd heard.

Quintuplets. _Five_ babies. He was going from just Dad to Grandfather of Five.

Blaine and Kurt had been smart with their money since college, they could have easily supported themselves and twins, maybe even triplets. But five babies at once... it was unthinkable to him. Just Kurt had been more than he could handle thirty years ago. If all of the babies cried as much as his own son had, then Blaine and Kurt would die of sleep deprivation.

Together, Burt and Carole guided Kurt and Blaine into the house. They left the bags in the truck for now and forced two steamy mugs of hot chocolate towards them.

"We don't even have enough arms to hold five babies," Blaine was mumbling as Burt shoved him down into a seat at the kitchen table. "What if they're all crying at once and we have to neglect one? How do we choose which one? Do we alternate or–"

"And strollers?" Kurt cut in as Carole finally got him to sit beside his husband. "Do they even make strollers for five?"

"We need a new car– a van or an Explorer or something with more seats," Blaine added, his hands digging into his gelled down hair. "Oh my god, oh my _god..._"

"We shouldn't have read those pamphlets on the flight," Kurt said hoarsely. "What if one of them doesn't survive? They'll be born _months_ early and their lungs and–"

"Guys!" Burt's shout stopped their verbal spiral. He pushed Blaine's mug into his shaking hands, and made Kurt raise his from the table. "Slow sips. Just relax. There's plenty of time to figure this out. We're right here with you."

After they'd both finished off their first mugs, Burt filled them back up and Carole heated up leftovers from earlier in the week. It scared him to see his boys falling apart and panicking like this. They'd waited and hoped for so long to have children of their own, and finally, they'd financially been able to after years of building towards it. Between the two of them everything had finally been perfect for welcoming a little baby into their cozy home outside the city.

"What are we going to do?" Kurt finally said when their mugs were empty again and Blaine was rubbing his temples in slow, measured circles.

"You're going to help me get your bags out of the truck, carry them upstairs, then take a nice long nap," Burt ordered. "This is a lot and yeah, it's scary as hell, but if I have to move in with you two for the first year, then I will. You're going to have plenty of help with those grandbabies, okay?"

They both gave whoozy nods, did as Burt had instructed, and when Burt returned to the kitchen, Carole looked over at him.

"I think we'll both have to move in with them," she said.

* * *

_"Oh my god, Dad," a girl's voice said. "What do you mean you didn't buy us pads? We're all twelve now! You were supposed to know we'd all start today! God!"_

_ Five identical teenage girls all nodded in agreement. They glared back at Kurt with Blaine's eyes and his frown, all holding up the same pair of ruined jeans and demanding pads, tampons–things he'd never even thought about before._

_ "Girls, I'm sorry–"_

_ "We have names!"_

_ "Peppermint!"_

_ "Buttercup!"_

_ "Marigold!"_

_ "Pecan!"_

_ "Sally!"_

_ "Sally?" Kurt repeated with a grimace. Who on Earth had named his daughters such horrible things? "I– do you want to go with me to buy them? I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm–"_

_ "Buy them?"_

_ "Ugh, Dad."_

_ "Oh my god, he's so useless."_

_ "I wish we had a different father." _

_ "Honestly, don't you know that the Period Fairy brings them?"_

_ "The _what_?"_

_ "Girls, I'm home!" The front door of their tiny little house open and Blaine came twirling in wearing a gaudy tutu and fairy wings. "I've brought everything your vaginas will ever need–"_

Kurt woke up screaming. Beside him, Blaine was already calming himself down from his own nightmare.

"Woah, Kurt, hey, shh, it's okay," Blaine pulled Kurt against his chest and rubbed his back. "Shh, I had a nightmare, too, it's okay."

"They were– five daughters and you were the Period Fairy and I don't know the difference between pads and tampons and–"

"Shh," Blaine cupped Kurt's face and kissed him softly on the mouth. It took Kurt a few moments to press back, but he finally did. "I dreamt we had five boys and they all wanted paint guns. _Finn_ bought them and they chased me around in my underwear and shot at me..."

"Oh my god," Kurt muttered. "We're going to drive ourselves crazy before they're even born."

They sunk back down in Kurt's old bed in his old room, Kurt curled up at Blaine's side and their fingers tangled together. For a while, they just laid there and said nothing.

"You know, we get to see five first smiles," Kurt said suddenly. "And five first steps."

"And five little people growing up to be individuals," Blaine said. "That's important. Even if they're all identical, we have to let them know they aren't a unit."

"We definitely need to know the sexes as soon as possible," Kurt decided. "What if we ended up with all these dresses or something and have five boys?"

"Maybe our boys will like dresses," Blaine said with a laugh. "I don't see a problem with that."

"You know what I mean," Kurt said, sitting up and giving him a weak glare. "Just for the sake of picking names, I think we need to know."

"Or we could pick neutral names," Blaine said. "If we can think up five neutral names."

"Ten, unless we're not doing middle names."

"Ten, right," Blaine agreed as Kurt rested his head on his chest again. "God, we can't ever do anything the simple way, can we?"

"Devon," Kurt murmured.

"Are you going to start calling me by my middle name again? Cause that was just role-play."

"No, I mean, one name is Devon," Kurt said. "I've always liked your middle name. Devon Hummel-Anderson."

"We could use yours, too, Kurt Evan," Blaine replied.

"Evan is not neutral."

"Sure it is, Evan Rachel Wood from _Across the Universe_," Blaine said.

Kurt agreed after a moment and they continued to think of names, from Ashley ("Kurt, that's rarely neutral in America") all the way down to Zaiden ("No, Blaine, that's a horrible, travesty of a name").

"So Devon, Colby, Jamie, Lynn, and Evan."

Kurt hummed and pressed a kiss to Blaine's chest. "Do you really think we can do this?"

"I think we can do anything together," Blaine said as he curled his fingers into Kurt's hair. "We'll figure it out."

* * *

At thirty-three weeks and five days, their five little babies were born via caesarean section. Jackie had been incredible throughout it all, staying in best for over two months, letting them visit her constantly and be there for her as her stomach continued to grow. At one point, Kurt had been sure just touching her belly when make it combust, but getting to feel their babies kicking had gotten him past the fear. They were surprised to find that all five were very healthy, though they all needed special care for their lungs to grow stronger for several weeks.

Finally, in mid-June, just in time for Father's Day, little Colby, the smallest of their family, was ready to leave the NICU and they could all go home for the first time. Burt and Carole where there to help (along with the custom-made stroller Burt had an old friend make for them) and finally, _finally_, all five were strapped into their car seats and heading home for the first time in their lives.

Kurt drove and Blaine kept an anxious eye on the two rows on car seats behind them. Devon behind Kurt, Lynn behind him, and little Colby in the middle and the easiest to reach. Behind them, Evan and Jamie, their little knitted hats Kurt had made just visible, were snoozing quietly.

"How long do you think it'll be before all seven of us are sobbing?" Blaine whispered excitedly. Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled. He was thrilled to have all of their babies with them, safe and healthy.

"I give it forty-eight hours," Kurt said as he pulled into the driveway of the home they'd bought in March. It was a lot bigger, enough that all five of their kids could someday have their own rooms if necessary, and situated in Port Chester. They were outside of the city and right along the state line between Connecticut and New York.

Unloading was a struggle neither of them had expected. Carole wanted pictures with all of them and of every little thing, but finally they were inside. The carriers had filled up the couch and the love seat, and Kurt, Blaine, Carole, and Burt were left standing there cooing.

"Oh, I don't know who to hold first," Carole gushed. "I'm so glad they're all finally home."

Burt grunted and stepped towards the carrier closest to him. "I'm going for this cutie pie first," he said. He scooped the baby up and smiled wider than Kurt had ever seen. "Hi there, Lynn. I'm your Grandpa. Yes, I am. Yes, I am!"

Carole scooped up Devon and started cooing, too. "I'm glad you have these little caps with their names," she said. "I don't know how you're going to tell them apart for these first few months."

"Their hospital bracelets are still on," Blaine said as he handed Evan and Colby to Kurt. "Soon enough I'm sure we'll know their little quirks. Won't we, Jamie?" he scooped the baby up and adjusted the little cap. Jamie's had green stripes. All five were white, with one colored stripes and long trailing points. They reminded Blaine of Santa Clause hats, but knitted and fur-less.

"They're all so quiet," Carole whispered as she swayed with Devon. "I wish Finn had been this quiet when I'd first brought him home."

"I think they're all too busy growing to bother with crying a lot," Kurt said. "Even in the hospital they were quiet unless they needed a change or food."

A high wail started from Burt's arms. A moment later, Colby and Devon followed, and suddenly all five were crying at once.

"Oh, you two are going to spend the next eighteen years eating your own words," Burt laughed.


	18. Role-play

A/N: Smut, just smut. Yup. **Stepbrothers** tomorrow, aka more smut. It's a rather smutty end of the week.

**Role-play**

It was late when Kurt arrived home to their dinky little apartment. The lights were off, the heat was still blasting, and Oscar wound himself around his ankles as soon as he stepped through the door.

"Oh, hush, I know it's dinner time." Kurt set his work bag down on the counter and tripped over Oscar's furry butt as he made for the refrigerator. "Silly boy, I'm going to step on you. Look out, move over."

Kurt scooped the tin can out of the refrigerator, grabbed Oscar's bowl and a spoon from the drainer, and started dishing out the stench. "Your food is the grossest smelling muck. Yes, it is, Oscar. My sweet pea. You're so cute when you're hungry."

"Ra-meow?"

"Here you go, precious muffin." Kurt set the bowl down by his water and unwound his scarf as he watched Oscar devour his meal."You're worse than my brother you know that? I don't know why I let Blaine talk me into keeping you."

"Meow?"

"Yeah, yeah, you were pretty cute as a soggy kitten in his coat pocket," Kurt relented. "You've got me there."

Kurt watched him for another moment, then scooped his bag up and headed into the master bathroom. Oscar would finish up and then sleep until midnight when he went on a rampage. A nice hot bath would be wonderful while he waited for Blaine to get out of his late class. That would do the trick. Maybe Blaine would get home early enough to join him. But when he stepped into the bedroom there was something blocking his way to the bathroom.

"Is that a– Blaine Hummel-Anderson, you sneaky dork."

He circled the incredibly accurate examination table that had appeared in their room. It looked like a typical examination table he'd find in any doctor's office, only in their room. Between the bed and the bathroom door, and fortunately with no scrunchy, noisy paper. Instead there was a folded up hospital gown with a note on top.

Bemused, Kurt picked the note up and unfolded it.

_Your appointment is at seven o'clock sharp. A full physical is scheduled as part of college entry requirements. Dress accordingly._

Hot all over, Kurt folded the note and looked at the clock. Forty minutes. That was enough time to shower and change. Kurt held the hospital gown up and gave a little giggle. It had been almost two months since he'd mentioned this role-play fantasy, but Blaine had figured it out. His husband always found a way to give him what he wanted. After checking the table over for sturdiness and wondering how Blaine had managed to find such a realistic one, Kurt headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

As he stepped out and dried off, Kurt eyed the gown, suddenly nervous. A seventeen or eighteen-year-old about to have a full physical with a handsome doctor. Tingling with excitement, Kurt pulled the flimsy fabric on, tried to tie it up, and gave up. It wouldn't matter soon enough. He hurried into the bedroom, dropped his clothes in the hamper, debating if underwear was appropriate and was just tossing those in too when the bedroom door opened.

"Ah, Mr. Hummel, are– oh, my apologies."

Kurt looked over his shoulder and found Dr. Anderson lingering in the doorway, his gaze on his clipboard. He spun around quickly, facing burning as he pulled the gown closed over his backside.

"Sorry, I'm– I didn't know if I should keep my underwear on or," Kurt cleared his throat and gingerly took a seat on the examination table.

Dr. Anderson smiled kindly over his glasses and set his clipboard down by the door. "It's fine, Kurt. I've been a doctor for close to ten years, I've seen a lot more, and a lot worse. Now, it says you're here for a full physical."

Kurt nodded and kept his eyes on his knees as Dr. Anderson talked him through the different parts of the examination, including something he'd never been asked before.

"Now, we also have an optional prostate examination," Dr. Anderson explained. "You're rather young to start, but considering your father's history, I thought I'd suggest it for you to consider."

"Oh, um," Kurt looked up as Dr. Anderson sat on his stool and pulled a draw open. "Does it hurt?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, it's quite simple. I'll have you bend over, put on my purple gloves, and lubricate a finger, and make sure there are no masses or anything. A few minutes, nothing more." Dr. Anderson spun around on his chair, and snapped his last glove on. "So?"

The doctor's eyes sparkled as he gazed at Kurt. It was almost like he was daring him to say no, to make their little game more complicated by refusing.

"I'll do it," Kurt said finally. "Where do we start?"

Dr. Anderson smiled, almost grinned, and Kurt blushed once more. He pulled out a stethoscope and started. Kurt tried to sit still and listen as his heart, lungs, ears, and eyes were checked. By the time he was laid down and Dr. Anderson started checking his organs and torso, Kurt was squirming and he was growing hard against his thigh.

"All right, Kurt, everything's looking excellent," Dr. Anderson said. "I just need you to stand up to check your testicles and then the prostate exam. Then we're done here, okay?"

Kurt ducked his head as he stood up, burning all over as his growing erection tented his gown. He shifted uncomfortably as Dr. Anderson spun around on his stool and rolled over to him.

"Well, that much seems to be in working order," he said. "I'm just going to lift your gown and check you over. The usual."

It took all of Kurt's strength not to run out of the room when Dr. Anderson pushed his hospital gown aside and his erection bobbed towards him. This was so embarrassing. Who popped a boner over a doctor? But Dr. Anderson was a beautiful man; beautiful parted curls, handsome, well-defined features, and a smile that made Kurt's hips twitch with want.

He jumped as a gloved hand cupped his balls and gently started to check them over. Then it was a quick hernia check, and Dr. Anderson rolled away again as Kurt watched his own shoulders and neck turn scarlet.

"Okay, Kurt, you can either bend over and touch your toes, or lean across the examination table."

Kurt turned away from him, and decided on the table. It was a little uncomfortable because he had to bend his knees, but he forgot that almost immediately. Hot breath brushed over the left side of his ass and then a hand slowly touched the spot.

"All right, just relax, it'll be one quick finger. Let me just warm this lube up for you."

A small whimper fell from his lips as Dr. Anderson's slick finger started massaging his rim, warming the cool lube until Kurt's hips snapped against the bed.

"Now just relax and breathe," Dr. Anderson reminded him, and then his finger was pressing in. Kurt gasped and dropped his forehead onto the examination table. "Just relax," he repeated and Kurt tried to, he honestly did. But Dr. Anderson's finger was in him up to the first knuckle, his cock was thick and hard against his stomach, and the doctor's fingertip had started slowly stroking over his prostate.

His mouth fell open against the polyester, legs jerking as Dr. Anderson's finger tip rubbed and probed.

"No masses or tumors," Dr. Anderson told him. He finger shifted a little higher and pressed in. "Any pain at all?"

Kurt shook his head and bit his lip.

"Kurt? Yes or no, please. Any pain when I press?"

"N- no," Kurt stammered. Then he groaned loudly. "Oh my god, that's wonderful."

But Dr. Anderson's finger uncurled and slid out.

"Very good, you're all finished with that," Dr. Anderson said cheerfully. Kurt could hear the teasing smirk in his voice, the one just daring Kurt to beg him to fuck him. "Just one more thing to do. We like to take a semen sample as part of a prostate exam. There are… several options for how to proceed, considering your current state."

Kurt groaned and arched himself back. "Anything, Doctor Anderson. Please."

"Anything? Well, if you insist." The lock on the door clicked and a moment later two hands were on Kurt's ass, massaging his cheeks and pulling them apart. "Just relax, Mr. Hummel. Here's the cup. We'll get you there in no time."

A high whine echoed around the room. Dr. Anderson's finger was pressing in again, a second quickly following. "Just relax. There'll be a little stretching and then we'll help you give that sample, okay?"

Kurt pressed his face against the examination table, his hips rolling and arching back against Dr. Anderson's fingers. Then they slipped out, and he was clenching around cold air, his hands clawing at the table until something slick and blunt pressed against him. A firm hand pressed down against the small of his back.

"Deep breaths, and relax," Dr. Anderson encouraged. "It'll feel tight at first. Maybe a little burn, too. It'll fade. Now, deep breath."

He sucked in a huge, shaky breath and Dr. Anderson pressed in. Kurt gasped and clutched the table harder, as inch after inch of Dr. Anderson's cock stretched him open and buried inside him. Finally, as Kurt's toes started grappling for a grip on the floor, the silky fabric of Dr. Anderson's pants brushed against his ass and thighs.

"And release," Dr. Anderson ordered. Kurt blew out his breath and shifted as Dr. Anderson's white coat fluttered around his hips. "Mmm, you're wonderfully tight. Just hold this," the cup was forced into his right hand, "and I'll take care of the rest. You've been such a good patient, Kurt."

One of Dr. Anderson's hands closed around Kurt's aching cock and he started to thrust. Heat surged through Kurt. Trembling, he held the plastic cup over himself and shut his eyes.

"Relax," Dr. Anderson murmured, his hand petting over Kurt's spine. "You're being so good. You're– god, that's tight. No pain?"

"Mmm, no," Kurt hummed and arched back against him. "Doctor? Could you tilt your hips a little? My prostate's feeling lonely."

"You're–" There was a snort behind him as Blaine broke character. But then he coughed and shifted his angle down. "Is that better?"

"Perfect," Kurt moaned and Dr. Anderson's hips snapped forward. His voice continued to sooth and encourage him as Dr. Anderson's hips knocked against him, thrusting deeper and harder until Kurt was panting and grabbing onto anything he could to stabilize himself. "Oh, god. Harder, please. Oh– Doctor Anderson, yes, oh, please, yes."

"Shh, you're," Dr. Anderson broke off to groan. "Close. Come on, Kurt. Be a good boy now."

Dr. Anderson's fist tightened around him, and twisted as it stroked faster, Kurt's feet lost their footing, but Dr. Anderson's hands had him. His hips snapped against the table, rutting and jerking as Dr. Anderson slammed into him.

"Oh, god, yes," Kurt gripped the table as euphoria surged through him and he came, half sobbing as Dr. Anderson groaned behind him. Sweating and panting, Kurt sunk down against the table as something hot and wet dripped over his lower back and ass.

"You're all done," Dr. Anderson said breathlessly. "Just need to clean you up and cap that sample, yeah." But instead of doing either of those, Blaine sunk down against his back and hummed softly. "That was brilliant."

"Where in the world did you find this table?" Kurt mumbled as Blaine kissed his shoulder blades.

"It was in the stage props at school," Blaine explained. "Figured it'd be worthwhile. There's a desk, too. A teacher's desk. If you ever want to fulfill my over the desk fantasy."

"Is that an over the top hint?" Kurt laughed. He stretched his arms as Blaine eased out of him. "I wouldn't mind being Professor Hummel once in a while. I think you as Devon Anderson, ultimate bad boy fantasy is still my favorite."

"I prefer you as a mechanic," Blaine argued as Kurt shakily got to his feet. "Though the hood of the car did hurt my ass after a while."

"Professor Hummel next." Kurt turned and stepped into Blaine's embrace. "Shall I help you take this back tomorrow and steal the desk for an evening?"

"Definitely. Trying to explain why I needed this to Rachel was a nightmare."


	19. Stepbrothers

A/N: So smut again, and a slight warning for age difference. It's not a huge gap by any means, but it makes one of them of legal age and the other not. As for tomorrow, it's supposed to be **Tourist_,_**but depending on what happens with my work schedule tomorrow, it might not get posted until Sunday evening. I may end up there all day. Enjoy more smut and have a good weekend!

**Stepbrothers**

The first time Kurt met Blaine was at his dad's wedding. It had been a sudden thing, hearing that his dad had proposed to Annemarie and that they were going to have the wedding in less than a month. Kurt had thrown it together with help from the Glee Club, Cooper (Annemarie's older son), and Annemarie herself.

Everything had been perfect, even Cooper face-diving into the punch fountain. His dad was happy, Annemarie was his stepmom, and both of her boys seemed happy for the pair, too.

"H- hi, I'm B- Blaine."

Kurt looked away from his friends at his table and found a younger boy looking at him. Annemarie's younger son, Blaine. Kurt didn't know much about him. He lived on the east coast with his father, was fourteen, and alarmingly geeky looking. But appearances weren't everything. Four years of high school had taught Kurt that. It wasn't Blaine's fault that he had wires all over his teeth, polka dot-zit cheeks, and a bush growing out of his head. His own body at fourteen had been anything but ideal. But Kurt was eighteen now, New York bound, and quite handsome from what he understood.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Kurt greeted. They shook hands and Blaine's was so sweaty Kurt had to resist wiping his hand on his pant leg. "I bet it's nice being back in Ohio for a bit."

Blaine nodded violently and tucked his hands into the armpits of his suit. "Y- yeah, it's great. I miss seeing Mommy– uh, Mom." His voice squeaked on almost every word and Kurt heard Rachel and Mercedes start giggling. He couldn't blame them. Blaine was redder than a setting sun and beaming like Kurt once had at the sight of Finn Hudson. "D-do you want to, um, it was– d- do you want to d- dance with me?"

Rachel and Mercedes squealed with laughter behind him, but Kurt stood up and took one of Blaine's sweaty hands. He never thought he'd end up regretting one dance with his new stepbrother, but a year and a half later he started to.

* * *

Blaine and Cooper had gone back to their homes after the wedding. Kurt got into NYADA, graduated and moved off to New York City with Rachel, and by the time Kurt saw Blaine again he'd forgotten all about his stepbrother's cute little crush. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. Blaine had been fourteen and awkward, but a year and a half later, he suddenly wasn't.

Kurt noticed him the moment he stepped into the airport in Columbus. His dad and Annemarie were there, waving and cheerful. But a teenage boy was with them now and it took Kurt a moment to place him. Blaine wasn't a little shrimpy fourteen-year-old anymore. A young man was standing at his dad's side; the zits were gone, the braces had been taken off, his hair had been chopped and styled, and he was almost as tall as Kurt now.

"Kurt, it's so good to see you, sweetie. Oh, you get more handsome everyday." His stepmother tugged him in for a hug and looked him over. His dad was next with a giant bear hug and questions about the finals he'd just finished.

"Looking sharp, bud." Burt patted him on the back and took one of Kurt's bags. "You remember Blaine, right? Annemarie's youngest? You two only met once at the wedding. He's staying for the summer, maybe for good if his dad's okay with it."

Blaine smiled at him, but it wasn't like the smile Kurt remembered. There was no more wires and metal, sure, but it was softer, more relaxed and sure.

"It's good to see you again, Kurt." Blaine held out his hand to shake and something in Kurt's knees shook. The younger boy's appearance wasn't the only thing that was suddenly different. His voice was deep and smooth as cream now.

"Y- you, too." Kurt took his hand and his entire face heated up at how dry and strong Blaine's grip was now.

They drove back to Lima, had dinner at Breadstix, and returned to the house. Blaine had been moved into Kurt's old bedroom basement, and Kurt didn't like the way his stomach twisted when his dad said they'd be sharing the room for the two weeks he was here. Blaine didn't react, maybe his crush had passed, but Kurt could already feel his beginning. How could he have a crush on his fifteen-year-old stepbrother? He was almost nineteen. This was completely ridiculous after all of the older, handsome men he'd dated and had sex with in the past year.

All that first week, Kurt got to know Blaine. He had a tour through all of Blaine's CDs, his iTunes library, his books and movies, and his bow tie drawer. The more Blaine and he talked the more he liked him and the more Kurt blushed and fumbled with his silverware at dinner and spilt milk down his front.

His short trip back ended on his birthday. It was the entire reason he'd come back at the end of May for a visit. There was a small party, his favorite meal for dinner, and then a large chocolate chip cheesecake. His dad had given him rent money, Annemarie had given him supplies for his classes, and Blaine surprised him completely.

"Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous," Kurt let the scarves flow out onto the table in all their bright glory. A deep purple, a soft cashmere in dark green, a striped monochromatic one. There were six all together. "These must have cost a fortune!"

"Ebay," Blaine explained. "Mom and Burt said you loved scarves and I found all the ones you left here in the closet downstairs, so I picked a few I thought you'd like."

"I love them," Kurt beamed. He flung his arms around Blaine's neck and squeezed him tight. It felt better than any hug he'd ever had before, better than sinking into a hot bath or a deep, restful sleep. When he pulled back, Blaine's eyes were dark and his fingers lingered longer than they should have on Kurt's side.

They trooped downstairs after cake for showers and then bed. Kurt insisted on Blaine taking his first to avoid being too obvious when he took an hour. But Blaine was in there for a long time, too, and the more Kurt thought about it, the harder he grew. After twenty minutes, Kurt couldn't stand it anymore. He took one glance at the closed bathroom door, listened to the running water, and unfastened his jeans. With one tug, he pulled his hard cock free and gave it one languid stroke.

"Fuck," he breathed. It had been too long since he'd gotten laid, that was all this crush meant. He didn't really like his stepbrother like that.

"Kurt, the shower's yours– oh! Um."

Kurt's hand froze on the upstroke, his eyes shooting open. Blaine was standing beside his bed, towel around his neck and pajama bottoms low on his hips. One look over the lightly muscled, still thin chest, and Kurt had to bite his lip and shut his eyes again. He was awful. A complete monster. What just nineteen-year-old had a thing for his fifteen-year-old stepbrother? This was insane, this was–

"Oh my– B- Blaine, what?"

Blaine had sunk down to his knees in front of him, a hand on either of Kurt's thighs. "You, um, look like you could use a hand," Blaine said quietly. "I've had plenty of practice on myself, so…"

Kurt groaned and pulled his pillow over his face. But his lack of response didn't deter Blaine. Instead one trembling, hesitant hand closed around the base of his cock and squeezed. It was a gentle touch and Kurt's hips jerked up, his cock sliding through Blaine's fist until he groaned.

"Is that a yes then?" There was a smile in Blaine's voice as Kurt's hips dropped back down. Blaine's fist stroked over him again, more firmly as Blaine wedged between his legs. Kurt moaned louder. "I'll take that moan as a yes."

Kurt held the pillow over his face as Blaine's hand moved, slow and tight, changing tempo and twists until Kurt was panting and arching into the movement. His hips sunk back into the mattress. He was trembling and gasping in a way he hadn't in a long time. None of the men in New York City could get him to this pleasure so easily. Maybe it was the innocence in Blaine's fingers petting his bare thigh or the soft brush of Blaine's lips and tongues on the underside of his aching cock.

"S- shit," Kurt mumbled as Blaine's tongue curled over the head of his cock. "I'm gonna– oh god!"

He came harder than he had in months, all over Blaine's cheeks and eyelashes and his own stomach. He was breathing hard and gasping when his stomach finally stopped pulsing and Blaine sat back. The other boy swiped a spot off his cheek and gave it an uncertain lick. "Hmm, that's not so bad."

"Oh my god," Kurt breathed. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it back over his face. "Did you– I can't believe– this is _illegal!_"

"Only a little bit," Blaine said. He plucked a few tissues from the box on the night-stand and wiped his face off. "Look, it was just one orgasm. I _offered_, and I took care of myself in the shower, okay?"

"I – goodnight." Kurt rolled over and pretended to fall asleep. By the time he returned to New York City the following afternoon, he was horrified with himself for not putting a stop to what had happened and even more worried with how much he'd wished he could have returned the favor.

* * *

Kurt didn't go home for Christmas that year. He stayed in New York City for every break and holiday for a year until his dad threatened to come up there and follow him around for a month. By July, he gave in and came back for his dad's birthday. There was no avoiding Blaine forever, he'd decided. His stepbrother and he would just have to sit down and talk this out, draw lines and boundaries and belts with locks.

But Blaine was nowhere to be seen when Kurt showed up at the house. He'd driven down to surprise his dad and Blaine wasn't there. For one hopeful moment, Kurt had dared to imagine Blaine had moved back to his dad's place, but Annemarie said something about a movie date when he asked. Kurt heaved a huge sigh of relief. Blaine had a boyfriend now. There was nothing to worry about, even if they shared a room for a few more weeks. At least that was what he thought until he was woken up the next morning to a piano alarm clock.

"Sorry."

Kurt squinted through the semi-darkness and watched Blaine slapped the alarm clock off. Then his eyes took in the length of Blaine's arm, thick and strong. His muscles had filled out beautifully from wrist to shoulder and all over his bare chest, down his stomach to... Kurt blushed and looked away. His stepbrother was naked, his blanket tangled around his ankles and his cock bobbing slightly against his navel.

"God, it's hot down here," Blaine said as he laid back down. He folded his arms under his head and stretched his legs out over the bed. Kurt gulped and shut his eyes. Blaine had filled out everywhere Kurt shouldn't want to think about. When he opened his eyes, Blaine was giving him a lazy smile as one hand rubbed over his belly. The new confidence was attractive and an awful turn-on. "You don't mind if I take care of this, do you?"

Blaine's hand closed loosely around his own cock and Kurt shivered at the sight. He'd never seen Blaine naked before, but he could easily imagine how different he was from a year ago. A broader chest, thicker muscles and thighs, and a thick, slightly curved cock that was just aching to be–

Kurt shook himself and sat up. But nothing could block out Blaine's soft moan and the creak of his mattress. "Mmm, it's better when someone else does it," Blaine said quietly," but…"

He trailed away and groaned until Kurt had to look. Blaine's cock was in his fist, his other arm propping him up as his hips worked up and down, up and down… Kurt was mesmerized by the sight. From Blaine's hips to the sweat starting to slick up his torso.

"Mmm, so good," Blaine moaned. "God, I'd love to be stretched open right now. Kurt?"

Kurt nearly toppled off his bed at the sound of his name. Deep, lyrical, Blaine's voice had somehow gotten more sexy since last summer. He couldn't do this again. Blaine was sixteen. He was twenty. This was so, so wrong. Even watching made him a pedophile, didn't it?

"Kurt? Can you– oh, god– can you get the lube out of the drawer for me? I'd do it myself, but–"

Kurt fumbled with the handle and looked in the drawer instead of at Blaine arching into his own grip and panting. But inside the drawer was more than a bottle of lube. There were condoms, a cock ring, three vibrators of various size and shape, and what Kurt thought looked like a prostate stimulator. He dug the half empty lube bottle out and gave it to Blaine, hoping the other man wouldn't notice how he was trembling and how badly he was tenting his pajama pants. Blaine popped the cap and rolled away from Kurt. Kurt didn't remember much after that. His eyes were transfixed by the round, perky swell of Blaine's ass and the slick fingers that were thrusting into it.

Every morning or evening for the next twelve days Blaine jerked off when Kurt was in the room. He stroked himself, stretched himself, and moaned and whined and cried out when he slid one of his vibrators inside himself. On Kurt's last day, he was aching hard from the time he woke up until he crawled into bed. Blaine was out with a few friends for the evening, and Kurt was relieved. He'd been woken up by Blaine that morning, kneeling on his bed and working himself up and down on his thick purple vibrator. Kurt hadn't had a rational thought since.

He fell asleep thinking about hitting a club as soon as he got back, but how he woke up changed his mind. An avid mouth was sucking over his cock, his pajama pants had been removed, and his skin was burning.

"Wh– Blaine?"

Blaine's eager mouth sealed itself against his, tongue darting in and the bitter taste of alcohol hit Kurt's taste buds. They kissed feverishly until Kurt's head caught up with his body and he realized his hands were tugging on Blaine's bare ass cheeks.

"Blaine, this is–"

"Illegal?" Blaine supplied. He started sucking down Kurt's neck. "So were the three drinks I had tonight, but that didn't stop me. Come on, fuck me. I've wanted to ride your beautiful cock since you got here."

Blaine's knees dipped into the mattress on either side of Kurt's hips and a condom was pressed against Kurt's chest. Speechless, Kurt let Blaine kiss over his neck and shoulders, then start sucking on his right nipple. Kurt groaned and arched up, his cock sliding along the crease of Blaine's ass.

"Did you–"

"I'm all ready for you," Blaine breathed. He pinched Kurt's other nipple until Kurt whimpered and jerked under him. "Please, I need you."

Blaine was hot and tight when Kurt pressed in. The empty condom wrapper fell down between them as Blaine arched and sunk down, his mouth open and his breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, god, you're so thick. That's so good." Blaine leaned over him, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed, and his cock heavy and bobbing between them.

Had Blaine done this before? Kurt couldn't help but wonder as they started kissing roughly again. He took Blaine by the hips and as Blaine struggled to start gyrating and find a rhythm, Kurt started to guide his roll and angle. It was clumsy and awkward, but Kurt had never had a better moment. Blaine panted and whined, his movements slowly gaining steadiness. Kurt let him ride then, one hand stroking over Blaine's cock and the other caressing Blaine's cheek. Blaine turned his face into Kurt's palm and cried out, his hips rolling and arching higher. This was wrong, but this gorgeous boy wanted Kurt as much as he wanted Blaine; wanted to share his first experience with Kurt.

Kurt stroked him faster, until Blaine fell forward again and cried out. He stopped moving then, his chest heaving as his come spilled over Kurt's belly and fist. Inside Blaine he was still throbbing for release. For the first time he was disappointed in having developed good sexual stamina. Maybe next summer he'd get to help Blaine with his.

* * *

But next summer didn't happen. Kurt found a wonderful full-time job for the summer and stayed in the city. It wasn't until mid-December when Kurt saw Blaine again. He didn't know what to think anymore. There were so many reasons not to continue this. Blaine was his stepbrother. He was underage. He'd had alcohol in his system last time. The list went on forever, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. Being with Blaine, whether it was hating him for masturbating every morning or talking about Idina Menzel's voice and Alexander McQueen, was a thrill Kurt couldn't explain with logic. Everything about him was a wonderful piece of Kurt's memory.

They ended up in the kitchen together right before dinner, grabbing the last two dishes for the table.

"Hi," Blaine's arms circled around his waist from behind and his chin hooked over Kurt's shoulder. "I missed you, handsome."

"Blaine," Kurt began, but Blaine cut him off.

"You missed my birthday this year, you know. Not even a card," Blaine said quietly. "Eighteen's an important one, too."

Kurt stiffened at his words. Eighteen. Blaine was eighteen now. He wasn't a freaky creep anymore. Well, he still might be. They both might be since they were technically stepbrothers, but did that count really? They hadn't grown up together or even known each other until their parents had gotten married four years ago.

"I– sorry," Kurt whispered. "I just–" He couldn't think of anything adequate to say so he turned in Blaine's arms and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "How about I give you my Christmas gift early instead? After dinner."

Blaine smiled up at him, his eyes twinkling. "I was hoping we could exchange presents a little early." He kissed Kurt's jaw and arched his hips forward until Kurt could feel his arousal against his thigh. "I've been waiting to give you yours all day."

Kurt shivered and dipped one hand into Blaine's back pocket to squeeze. "Are you ready for me?"

"I will be. I've been practicing, too," Blaine teased. "I bet I can ride a dick better than you now."

"What makes you think I bottom?" Kurt returned as one of Blaine's hands slid under his sweater.

"With a sexy ass like yours? Please."

Kurt laughed and let Blaine drag him down for deep kiss.

"Annemarie! You own me sixty dollars! I told you they'd get together!"

They broke apart just in time to watch as Burt hurried back into the dining room.


	20. Tourist

A/N: So a Saturday off for everyone. I might double up a day, maybe W and V, but I'm not sure yet.

So this one has a few, **not full warnings, but cautions and things to keep in mind while reading**. Obvious, the title is Tourist, so Kurt and Blaine are going to a foreign country. I've added a bit to one scene since this was posted on Tumblr because people were misinterpreting the reasoning for Kurt and, particularly, Blaine's reactions.

**Another thing to keep in mind: T****his story is from Kurt and Blaine's perspective, meaning two, young, naive Americans with little to no understanding or experience of Europe's many cultures. The U.S. is a highly-isolated place when it comes to culture and language. Half the country's reaction a Coke commerical is several languages was a testiment of how little we as a nation understand and view other cultures. Blaine and Kurt are a product of this country, and grew of in a rural part of Ohio. There are several instances of their own personal histories, biases, and assumptions creating stereotypical situations in some countries. There are going to be assumptions and inaccuracy, both because they are inexperienced and because I am as well. I'm never left the east coast of the United States, as much as I'd like to see the world, I haven't. Nobody in my family has either. Overall, I tried to keep a lot of interactions out of the heart of this story for that reason.**

******Under the Sea** is tomorrow's prompt. Enjoy, keep the above in mind, and I'll continue watching the closing ceremonies for the Olympics!

**Tourist**

"But _Hawaii_, Blaine! The islands and–"

"Sun?" Blaine offered. He shook his head and laughed as Burt set mugs of eggnog down in front of them. Finn nabbed his immediately and started taking enormous gulps. "Kurt, you _hate_ the sun almost as much as you hate your cute freckles."

Kurt glowered at him and shoved the Hawaii brochure aside. "They are _not_ cute," he said stiffly. "Fine, but we aren't taking our honeymoon at Bryan Ferry's birthplace either. Or Freddie Mercury's _or_ Adam Levine's. I don't care how gorgeous that man is, we are not spending a week in Los Angeles being hounded by your brother."

Burt dropped down into his armchair and watched them. It was Christmas Day, post-dinner, and Kurt and Blaine had spent most of their visit debating honeymoon options for their June wedding.

"What about the Bahamas?" Kurt said tentatively. He tugged the pamphlet from the pile and waved it at Blaine.

"You really want a beach, don't you?" Blaine said instead of giving an answer. "We could go to Vancouver and ski?"

"I cannot even _stand_ in skis," Kurt snapped. "Absolutely not."

Finn set his finished mug down and looked at them. "Since when can't you two agree on something? Haven't you picked everything else for the wedding? Even, like, the napkins?"

Kurt nodded, but kept his stare on Blaine. "Hawaii."

"Skiing!"

"Hawaii!"

"Why don't you just skip the honeymoon?" Finn wondered.

"Skip the– and miss out on–"

Carole shushed Finn and told him to go take the empty mugs and cookie tray into the kitchen. She shook her head as Burt turned on football and the boys huffed and crossed their arms.

"What about Europe? Or London?" Carole suggested as she looked through the pile. "You don't have any spots in Europe here."

"That's a long way for just a week," Kurt said uncertainly.

"Why don't you just do that backpacking across Europe thing?" Finn said as he came back in. "That's a college guys thing, right?"

Burt grunted. "Don't be ridiculous, Finn. They'll pick a place."

But Kurt and Blaine were staring at each other thoughtfully.

"There's nice beaches along the Mediterranean," Blaine offered.

"And the Swiss Alps for skiing," Kurt agreed. "And with an entire _summer_, we might as well see the rest of the continent. I can brush up on my French."

"I'm sure my parents will flake and shove a few thousand our way for missing the wedding," Blaine added even as the rest of the room's occupants shifted uncomfortably. "We'll need good baggage and translation dictionaries and–"

"A full summer honeymoon in Europe," Burt said as he looked away from the television. "I knew you two would come up with something extravagant."

* * *

They booked flights the day Blaine's parents' check cashed. It was more than they'd expected, but they put one thousand of it into a savings account, and the rest would be used towards their summer. All spring they planned, mapped out, and scheduled their road trip down to the hour. Blaine had pushed for a minute by minute itinerary, but Kurt had stopped him. They'd be lucky if their hourly plans worked out once they reached each destination.

On the third of June, after the reception, Burt and Carole dropped them off at the gate with tears and kisses goodbye.

"Be safe, call when you're there. Did you pack the outlet converters? You won't be able to charge your phones if you don't have them," Carole rambled, hugging Blaine then Kurt then Blaine again.

"They've got them," Burt said. He pulled Blaine into a hug of his own. "Stay sharp over there, kiddo. Enjoy it, but be careful. Take care of each other."

"We will," Blaine said as he passed Burt to Kurt.

There was another round of hugs, and then they were on the late night flight to Milan, Italy.

"So, husband," Blaine said after they'd taken off and the seatbelt sign flickered out, "have any interest in joining the mile-high club?"

Kurt giggled as Blaine pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck and nuzzled the spot. Their flight was small, their row of three just the two of them, and only one old woman in sight. She had already draped a blanket over herself and kicked back. "We haven't even been in the air for ten minutes," Kurt said as Blaine continued to kiss his neck. "But, I mean, it's still early our time, and a nice blowjob should make it easy to sleep for the rest of the flight."

Blaine smiled against his skin, and stood up. "I'll be waiting."

Kurt sat impatiently for a few minutes, then followed his husband down the aisle.

* * *

"Yes, Dad, we're fine. We're at the hostel now."

Blaine listened to Kurt on the phone with Burt as he carried the last of their luggage into their room. It was cozy with one double bed and a view of the city, enough for two nights. The attendant at the desk had given them strange looks when they'd corrected her, but when she'd spotted their shiny new wedding bands she'd congratulated them.

"I'm so tired," Kurt yawned and tossed his phone onto the desk.

"Well, we did spend a long time in that airplane bathroom."

"Mmm, we did," Kurt agreed. He tangled his arms around Blaine's neck and hugged him close. "Wanna nap and then find one of those restaurants on the list?"

"Honestly, I wanna spend the rest of the day in bed with you," Blaine said as Kurt worked his shirt loose. "That's not a bad way to spend our first night in Italy, right?"

"Strip naked and I'll let you know."

* * *

It was late when they woke up. The window looking towards the Swiss Alps was dim and the lights of streets below were already on.

"We should eat something," Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips. He shifted his weight on top of Blaine and dove back down for another deep kiss. "Mmm, let's just feast on each other."

But both of their stomachs rumbled and finally, Blaine crawled out from under his husband and stretched. Kurt scampered after him, and together they stood naked at the floor-to-ceiling length window overlooking the city.

"I'm sure we can find some place open still," Blaine said as Kurt's arms settled around his waist and his thumbs rubbed gently over his hipbones. "I wish we hadn't fucked our way through the sunset. I bet it was beautiful."

"There'll be one tomorrow," Kurt reminded him. He kissed the sensitive spot behind Blaine's earlobe and held him tighter when he shivered. "We can watch it just like this _and_ fuck against this window. If you want, I mean, I know how you get when you think people are watching."

"Kurt," Blaine warned as Kurt's lips sucked at the same spot until he was dizzy. "We– can't we get dinner before you drag me back to bed?"

"I have a box of cookies and water in one of my bags for a reason. And Sam gave us a few bags of Cool Ranch Doritos."

"I knew he was the right choice for best man."

* * *

They spent the better part of their first twenty-four hours in Milan tangled up in sheets, pillows, and each other. The second day, while filled with a cafe ("Don't ever, _ever_ tell Third Rail that I found somewhere better"), a day spa, and a lot of sights around the city, had ended much the same as the first. By sunset, they were both facing the window, skin to skin, as Kurt lined himself up and slid into Blaine's body.

Blaine groaned as Kurt pressed him more firmly against the window and the deep reds of the sunset gleamed over the Swiss Alps. "Fuck, I always forget how good you feel."

"That's what happens when you top all day yesterday," Kurt murmured. He kissed Blaine's shoulder and breathed deeply as Blaine clenched around him. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

"You don't have to butter me up anymore," Kurt said with a teasing smile as Blaine looked over his shoulder to him. "I'm married to you now, you've got me forever."

"I want to remember us like this forever."

* * *

In the morning, they left Milan for Venice and got lost along the way. Neither of them were any good with Italian road signs, but after a ten kilometer detour, Kurt got them back on track. They were looped through circles when they crossed to the island and rumbled their little rental car to a lot to park. Kurt handled the translating, and figured out how to get to the hotel Burt and Carole had booked for them for a few days.

"Oh, wow, there is it! The Hotel Rialto!"

Blaine leaned out of the water taxi next to his husband and stared up at the hotel right off the Grand Canal. "That must have cost a fortune."

"Well it is their wedding gift to us," Kurt said as he snapped a picture with his phone and sent it to his dad. "Oh, I can't wait to get inside. And then we can find a cute little place to eat and we _have_ to take a romantic gondola ride. I'll never forgive you if we don't."

"Deal."

They settled into their room, then asked the receptionist for nice, local restaurants. She directed them to a spot on the other side of the beautiful bridge outside of their hotel. After dinner, where Kurt relinquished his title of Magnificent Pasta Maker, they found a gondola to ride in.

"Here?" Blaine said uncertainly as he handed the unfamiliar currency over. "I think that's right."

The man handed part of it back and laughed. "Too much. More than too much. Sit, sit."

Blaine hopped in and offered his hand to Kurt to help him down.

"Oh, I'm not a boat man," Kurt babbled as they settled down in the seat and pushed away from the street. "Oh, why did I let you talk me into this. I might be sick."

"This was _your_ idea, husband," Blaine laughed. He put one of his arms around Kurt and held him close. "Just relax and kiss me."

And Kurt did. He leaned back against Blaine's chest as the city began to light up around them, and kissed his husband.

* * *

From Venice, they headed down the east coast to Bari and tried more food than they'd had since they'd landed. They debated heading to the heel of the country, and finally, after Kurt begged, skipped it and headed towards Sicily. They'd talked about taking a detour towards the island for a few days, but hadn't been familiar enough with the area to know how possible it might be.

It rained the entire drive from Bari to Villa San Giovanni, a port town where there was supposed to be a ferry to Sicily.

"It looks like it's closed," Blaine said with a frown as they drove up to the gates. Rain splattered on the windshield and beat down the roof of the little car. "Probably the rain."

"But–" Kurt frowned at the empty parking lot and the locked gates. "We have a few extra days. Do you want to wait for tomorrow and see if its open?"

They spent the night at a little hotel twenty minutes away and in the morning returned to the ferry. Again, it was locked. The rain had stopped and the morning sun was shining on the sea. Sicily was just visible across the deep blue water, mountainous and incredible even at a distance. A sign posted in Italian (after twenty minutes of translating) told them the ferry had been closed for maintenance.

"We could hire a boat," Kurt said uncertainly. He glanced along the coast and docks where people and fishermen were milling about.

"Or skip it for now," Blaine said. "I don't think we could afford that."

Kurt frowned, but nodded sadly as Blaine took his hand.

"I'm sorry, honey."

"Some other trip," Kurt said. "Come on. Rome awaits the Hummel-Andersons."

* * *

To make up for missing Sicily, they stopped in Naples as they headed up the west coast and took a detour to Mount Vesuvius. A night in Naples where they uploaded and started folders for their honeymoon were added to Facebook. They headed to Rome for all of the sights and spent two days there, before heading to Pisa, for one specific sight: the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

"Get a picture of me holding it up," Kurt said as Blaine squatted down and tried to get the right angle.

"To the left–no, back a step–"

He snapped the picture and laughed when he looked at it. "All the people in the background look ridiculous."

Kurt bounced over and laughed when he saw them. "Your turn to pose!"

They each took a handful, holding the tower up at different angles, leaning against it, and Blaine suddenly grinned.

"Hands and knees," he called as Kurt gave his squeaky laugh and shifted from his horrified pose under the tower.

"Blaine, that's for the hotels, not out here."

"No, I mean– excuse me?" he called to a couple close by and got them to take a picture. "Cheek on the grass and pretend you're screaming–"

"Blaine, what–"

Blaine hurried over and raised his hands above Kurt's butt. The couple took pictures of them switched and when Kurt was handed his phone back he understood and couldn't stop laughing.

"I can't _believe_ I married such an idiot," he said as he flipped through the two pictures. In the first, he was lined up with the tower and Blaine was over him, looking insane as he shoved the tower down at his butt. The second was just as silly because Kurt's face was simply bemused and bright with laughter instead of rage.

"You love your idiot," Blaine said. He wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and tucked his chin over his shoulder to look at the pictures, too.

* * *

"Those were some interesting pictures at the tower," Burt said as he and Carole sat down for breakfast.

Kurt laughed brightly as the wind whizzed through the phone. "That was my husband's idea."

"Your favorite husband's idea!" Blaine's voice called.

Burt chuckled and put the phone on speaker for Carole to hear. "So where to now? You're still in Italy, right?"

"For another... twenty minutes?"

"Maybe less," Blaine said in the background. "Viva la France!"

"You two must have gotten up early," Carole said as she started cutting her pancakes. "How was Rome?"

"We never went to bed, actually, but Rome was beautiful," Kurt gushed. "The entire country is just amazing. I'm going to miss it, but– oh, we're crossing into France! Gotta go! We love you!"

Burt shook his head as the call ended. "Crazy kids. I miss them."

"Nine more weeks."

"Two and a half months is way too long without them."

* * *

"Umm, are you... sure this is the right beach?"

Blaine looked down the coast line and tried not to stare. Everyone in sight was naked, and for the first time in his life, he thought he might understand the appeal of a woman's chest.

"It's... well, we are in Europe, and this is better than those rock beaches in Nice," Kurt said. His eyes followed the same woman as she jogged to catch her hat that was blowing away. "Having breasts must really hurt."

"Not as much as that man's dick must be aching," Blaine muttered as a man came running out of the water. "We'd never walk again if either of us looked like that."

"Let's go find somewhere else." But Blaine didn't move as Kurt turned to go. "Blaine?"

"I do love seeing you naked," Blaine said offhandedly as he tugged at the waistband of his swim shorts. "And I know you're rather a fan of my nudity."

"This is completely–_put your shorts back on!_"

"I'll put mine on, if you take yours off!"

Blaine started down the beach towards the water, laughing and waving his shorts at Kurt.

"Blaine Devon!"

"Strip for me, my sexy husband!"

"I– _ugh!_"

Kurt glared at his husband as he set up their towels and umbrella. With a huff, and another encouraging catcall from Blaine, Kurt shimmied out of his own shorts and placed a hand on his hip. "Am I ready for an afternoon with my husband now?"

"Come closer and let me... assess your assets."

Kurt shook his head and strutted down towards the water.

* * *

By the third week, after hopping from Marseille to Barcelona then Madrid and a few nights in Lisbon, Portugal, Kurt and Blaine were blurry-eyed from travelling.

"Why is Paris fifteen hours away?" Kurt yawned and stretched as they put the last bag in the car and climbed in. "I'm tired of driving."

"We can spend three or four days there," Blaine reminded him as he flopped down in the passenger seat. "My lower back's sore."

"My ass is sore," Kurt challenged as he eased himself into the driver's seat. "Thanks to _someone_ wanting to make love to me all night."

"Don't start talking about it or we'll never leave Portugal."

"I expect an entire day at our hotel in Paris where I get to have my way with you," Kurt said. He adjusted the pillow under his butt and sighed.

"I am perfectly happy to give you that."

* * *

By the time they hit the border back into France, Blaine forced Kurt to pull over and change drivers. Kurt was wincing and shifting and in obvious pain from sitting on his sore butt. Blaine rearranged some of their luggage and leaned Kurt's seat back, then took over the rest of the drive into the night. When they reached the outskirts of Paris, and the bright umbrella of light that blocked out the stars, Blaine shook Kurt awake.

"Kurt, hey, we're here."

"Mmm, sleepin'."

"I know you are," Blaine laughed, "but you only get to drive into Paris once."

Kurt peaked over the dashboard and stared at all the light they were approaching. "Pretty," he mumbled before sinking backwards and going back to sleep.

Blaine pulled up to the hotel his brother had named, and was ushered out by a sharply dressed man.

"Um, bonjour," he greeted, feeling lost without Kurt's fluent French to guide him. The man directed him inside as another unloaded their bags on a trolley and pushed them through a side door. At the desk, an older woman was flicking through a notebook. "Bonjour," he said, feeling ridiculous with his accent. "Um, uh, parlez-vous anglais?"

"Oui, yes," the woman replied. "Checking in?"

"Yeah, sorry, my husband's fluent but I just– I can speak Spanish and German but– the room should be under Blaine Hummel-Anderson."

"Here's the key, and check out is–"

"Don't I have to pay?"

"It's already covered," she said, looking at her computer screen. "There's a note from a Mr. Cooper Anderson reminding you to 'stay naked'."

"Oh my– I am _so_ sorry."

Blaine returned to the car with a red face and found their baggage gone and Kurt still snoozing in the passenger seat. Another sharply dressed man was clearly waiting to move the car.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm, sleepin'."

"Babe, we–"

"Sleepin'."

Ten minutes later, Blaine staggered into the elevator with Kurt's body cradled in his arms. He leaned back against the wall and tried to figure out how he was going to hit the right button when an elderly couple stepped in.

"Um, could you– uh, s'il vous plait, uh–" Blaine nodded at the buttons. "Quatre?"

"You want the fourth floor?" the woman said with a smile.

Blaine sighed in relief and nodded as he adjusted Kurt in his arms. When had his husband gotten so heavy?

"Newlyweds?" the man asked as the door shut. At Blaine's nod, he added, "We're here on our thirtieth anniversary. Came here for our honeymoon."

"T-that's amazing," Blaine tried to gasp out, but Kurt shifted and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Oh, you two are so cute. We should show them around, Hank. We can take them to that bridge with the love locks and–"

"S- sure," Blaine agreed as the doors opened at their floor. "That'll be– we're in 414." And he stumbled out and down the hall, finally dumping Kurt on the bed and glaring down at his sleeping face. "You're wide awake, aren't you?"

"I like it when you carry me."

* * *

They spent their first day in Paris with Hank and Sophie, letting them drag them around to all the sights and to restaurants they'd come to love over their many years of visiting the city. Like themselves, they were from the United States, but further west in Iowa.

"So this is the Love Lock Bridge," Sophie said as they approached the strangest looking bridge Kurt and Blaine had ever seen. "Gosh, it's so much fuller than last time. We're going to find ours!"

They watched the older couple wander off, arm in arm, and Blaine pulled the heart-shaped lock they'd found at a boutique out of his pocket. "We just find a spot to lock it on, right?"

"Looks like it. I'll write your name, if you write mine."

They did, then wrote their hyphenated last name, and found a spot waist high three-fourths of the way down. "There," Blaine said as he locked it. "This way, in a decade when we come back with our kids, it'll be eye level for them."

"Unless they get my height, then it'll be knee high."

"Shut up and throw the key, Kurt."

It landed with a splash down in the river and disappeared. "Now nothing can undo our love."

"Nothing ever could."

* * *

They said goodbye to Hank and Sophie the morning they left Paris. From there they spent a day in Brussels, then moved on to Amsterdam at Blaine's request.

"All this place is known for is drugs and booze," Kurt said when they drove into the city. "Honestly, we could be in Germany right now."

After settling into their hostel, they found a place on the water for dinner, then returned to their hostel. Kurt went to take a shower and Blaine went to find an ice machine or some sort of food vending in the hostel. Instead, he found himself in a small shed out back with two young guys. They both spoke enough English for them to speak broken English and Dutch together. He'd never tell Kurt, but part of the reason he'd wanted to visit was to try _something_, but with Kurt. He'd lived in New York City long enough to wonder about the appeal of combining sex and pot.

When he returned to their room, Kurt was finishing his facial routine and Blaine smelled strongly of weed.

"What did you–"

"Don't be mad."

"You bought– oh my god."

Blaine set the little bag down and showed him the cheap bong. "I just want to try it–with you."

"We are not–"

"Haven't you ever wondered? And we could have high sex and–"

"Blaine, _no_."

Instead of trying logic, Blaine settled down on the bed beside his husband and started kissing any part of him he could reach. Then he resorted to begging.

In the end, Kurt caved.

* * *

"Did we get hit by a bus?" Kurt groaned. It was morning–or daylight. Daylight was the only way to describe it.

Blaine pressed his face into his pillow where they'd apparently piled them on the floor last night. "My ass hurts."

"You're the one who didn't want to use lube."

"We had sex? I don't even remember my second hit– _oh,_ no. Laying back down. Kurt, I feel awful."

"I told you it was a bad idea, I never even came. I bet it was mixed with something. We're lucky to be alive."

"We're never doing this again. Throw the rest out. I feel sick."

Kurt flushed the little bit left down the toilet and hid the bong in Blaine's suitcase. They might not ever use it again, but it could be a good bargaining tool the next time Blaine came up with a stupid idea. They spent an extra day in Amsterdam, and this time Kurt decided on their activity, picking Anne Frank's house instead of recreational drugs that made Blaine sick for the better part of their stay in the Netherlands.

* * *

They skipped most of Germany, hitting Hamburg on their way north into Denmark, then Sweden, and finally over the water to Helsinki. It was July now, a few days after the fourth. Burt and Carole had called when they'd left Copenhagen, but they'd had problems with their phones the farther east and north they went.

"I wish it'd stop raining," Blaine said. He was sitting in their little room's window seat and frowning at the drizzle. Ever since they'd left port in Copenhagen it had done nothing but rain.

From the bathroom, Kurt groaned and threw up again.

"Are you sure you don't want something? Yogurt's supposed to settle your stomach."

"I'm sea-sick, not real sick," Kurt reminded him. "I am _never_ spending time on a boat ever again. _Blargh!_"

"At least we're taking a plane to St. Petersburg!"

* * *

As soon as they stepped on the plane in St. Petersburg, Kurt and Blaine kept extra space between them. Everywhere else they hadn't thought much about holding hands, or having their arms linked or their shoulders brushing.

"Let's, um," Blaine paused nervously and stared at a group of men watching them. "Let's find the hostel and get a room."

"Three days and then Moscow," Kurt said, resisting the urge to take Blaine's hand. Instead, he shoved his own into his pocket and they found a ride to the address. If anything, Blaine only grew more anxious and when they approached the desk, Kurt didn't blame him. "One room, please," he said in broken Russian.

The man stared at him, then Blaine, then asked for identification and payment. Kurt tried not to roll his eyes as he moved to dig his wallet out, but Blaine's hand on his back stopped him.

"I left mine on the bus," he said, and before Kurt could blink he was back outside under an overcast sky. "Let's get out of here."

"Blaine, just ignore them. They can't do anything–"

"Can't they, though? This is their country. And they had those laws before the Olympics last year and do you see how they're all looking at us?"

Kurt looked back through the glass door. There was a group of security standing by the desk now, talking to the receptionist. None of them had glanced their direction, but Kurt shivered anyway. Was Blaine right? They'd both read the stories and the articles in the weeks leading up to their visit. He buttoned his coat up and tucked his bright purple ascot in his pocket. They weren't safe here-Blaine didn't feel safe here. They'd both acknowledged the risks when they'd planned their visits in eastern Europe, but Kurt hadn't expected it to feel so hostile, so fast. He glanced at Blaine's clenched jaw and the coat buttoned up to his throat. There was a look in his eyes like the day Kurt had first asked him to his Junior prom.

"Come on," he said, trying to put the hand hold he wanted to give Blaine into his tone. "Maybe we can drive by some of the sights on the way back to the airport."

Blaine only nodded and hurried back towards their waiting cab.

They drove around to a few cathedrals, and then across several bridges Kurt had had on their long list. It wasn't easy, or possible, to pack three days of sights into an hour, but he picked a few and tried to calm Blaine down as they returned to the airport.

But Blaine was tenser than Kurt had ever seen him. Maybe it was because he'd seen these same looks in high school, even in New York, that made him shrug it off. They could insult him, spit at him, or whatever. It couldn't hurt him. But it terrified Blaine because those looks had turned into enough to land him in the hospital.

They booked tickets with Blaine's credit card, a first on their European tour, for the first flight out of the country. Prague. It wasn't on the list and that make Kurt more concerned. Blaine was panicking and he couldn't comfort him without something horrible happening to each of them.

As they passed through the gates to board, a loud, male voice started hollering behind them. Kurt turned to find Blaine, still on the other side of the gate, spun around as two burly security men jogged towards him.

"No," he muttered, pressing back through the crowd. "Blaine–"

The men stopped and Kurt's chest froze over. This couldn't be happening. They'd go on to Prague, then Greece, and Germany and–

One of the men held a wallet out to Blaine, who visibly swayed and accepted his dropped item. Once they were in the air, Kurt raised his arm rest and let Blaine burrow into his side until they landed.

* * *

Burt was woken in the middle of the night by his phone. He fumbled with it on the bedside table, then frowned when he saw it was Kurt calling.

"Kurt? It's one in the–"

"Daddy?"

Burt sat up and flipped the light on. "What's wrong? What happened? I'll be on a plane in–"

"No, no, w- we're fine," Kurt sniffled. He cleared his throat. "We're in Prague at a little hostel for the night. Blaine's asleep. I just– I needed to hear your voice."

"You aren't fine," Burt said as Carole rolled over and squinted up at him. "What happened? I thought you guys would be in Russia by now."

"Burt?"

"It's– we were in Russia, but– I don't think I've ever been so scared. The people at the hostel and then– we got back to the airport and just left, but these security guys stopped Blaine and I- I thought–"

"And he's okay? You're both okay?"

"He's right here," Kurt said and Burt could picture his son-in-law, sleeping soundly against Kurt's chest. "Sleeping. As soon as we got in the room he started crying and– we didn't even correct the lady at the desk and we're in this tiny twin bed."

Carole had sat up beside him now. "What's happened?"

"They're okay," Burt told her, putting his arm around her and holding her close since he couldn't with Kurt or Blaine. "Just shaken up."

"I just– I love you, Dad, okay? I'm sorry I scared you, I just needed to hear your voice."

"It's fine, bud," Burt said. "I love you, okay? You two get some sleep and call us in the morning."

"It is morning here."

"Our morning, knuckle head."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, boys."

* * *

It was late afternoon when Kurt finally woke up. He'd sat up most of the night as Blaine cried and then slept, and finally around dawn, he'd fallen asleep himself. Blaine was sitting at the little desk between the two twin beds, on his laptop with their itinerary open.

"We've got almost an extra week now," he said when Kurt stretched and yawned. "We can spend more time in Germany or here or the U.K."

"We're close to Auschwitz, aren't we? It's a bit of a drive, but we could do that tomorrow," Kurt asked, looking Blaine's face over. There were dark patches under his eyes and he looked exhausted. "Let's just spent the day in the room, and tomorrow we can do something. I don't feel like going anywhere today."

Blaine stopped typing and rearranging and nodded. "Yeah, I– that sounds nice."

Kurt sat up and looked around the dim room. The first thing he noticed was the second, unused bed. The bedding had been rumpled up and tangled into a pile.

"Blaine," he said softly, "come back to bed?"

"Kurt, I'm fixing our schedule. We've got so much we can shift around and change and–"

"Blaine, please, come back to bed."

"Or we could–"

"Blaine."

Kurt leaned over and pulled Blaine's hand away from the keyboard and guided him back into the little bed. "I'm right here and we're safe," he murmured as Blaine laid down next to him. "Nobody is going to hurt either of us."

"I know," Blaine mumbled as Kurt rolled to face him. He wiggled forward until they were in each other's arms and their foreheads were pressed together. "It was stupid. I was overreacting, wasn't I? We read too much about stuff on those blogs and websites and–"

"And you have a right to react how you do," Kurt finished. He kissed Blaine softly and held him closer. "I shouldn't have insisted we try Russia. Not after your experiences with bullying and violence. I just wanted to see the ballet and the beautiful buildings and get one of those dolls that has a bunch of smaller ones inside of it. I'm sorry. It was a waste of money. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have told you soon that I was scared," Blaine said quietly. "But you'd already started those visas and everything so we could even get in the country and… I'm sorry you didn't get to see anything."

"I'm sorry I put you back into high school with this," Kurt replied. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Blaine said. He kissed him roughly then and Kurt let Blaine control it, let him move and mold the moment to what he needed right now. "Can we just lay here and hold each other? I don't want the rest of the world right now."

"Okay," Kurt agreed. He kissed Blaine on his nose-tip and pulled the blankets up around them.

* * *

They visited Auschwitz Memorial and Museum the next day, then drove late into the night to Budapest. A night there, then a day in the city, and again they moved on. They were both anxious and jumpy still, and almost everywhere they went someone looked at them oddly. Kurt liked to think it was because they were American, but when he climbed back into the car he always looked his outfit over and knew otherwise. Blaine's own wardrobe had faded to a bleary arrangement of loose jeans and monochromatic shirts.

By the time they had visited Romania, the Black Sea, and Istanbul, Blaine had perked up some, but they was still a block between them. The sex that had dominated the first three weeks had fizzled out, and by the time they reached Athens, Kurt gave up hope of it returning until they made it back home.

And he got it, he did. At every hostel, he'd tested the walls and decided, with Blaine, not tonight. For over a week it was always not tonight. They were both too loud, regardless of positions or angles.

But Athens... their room was bigger and on the Aegean Sea. The walls were stone and they had a corner room with one empty room for a neighbor.

"Blaine?" Kurt was stripped naked and shifting from foot to foot outside the bathroom door. Against his navel, he was stiff and aching. "Can I come in?"

"What? Kurt? I'm washing my hair!"

Kurt pressed his forehead against the door and groaned. With another look at himself, he opened the door and climbed into the shower.

"Kurt– _mmph!_ _Oh!_"

* * *

They spent three days in Athens. Two days seeing the sights and the last in their room and making up for lost time. But they were both still quiet, their movements tense and jerky, their voices clutched tight in their throats instead of echoing around the room. At the end of the night, after they'd had dinner delivered to their room, they stood naked on the little balcony and watched the sunset over the Mediterranean.

"Egypt's over there," Blaine said, his gaze fixed south. Kurt kissed the spot where a strip of sunlight was highlighting the golden bronze of his skin. "I've always wanted to see the pyramids."

"Mmm, yeah, the ancient Egyptians were my favorite part of history," Kurt said, looking towards the south. "And they worshipped cats. I bet Oscar misses us."

"He's got Rachel," Blaine said. "And Santana and Sam. He looks happy in the pictures they keep sending."

Kurt only yawned and held Blaine tighter.

"We should go," Blaine said suddenly as the sun's edge finally sunk below the horizon. "To Egypt, I mean," he added at Kurt's raised eyebrow. "We've got an extra ten days with how fast we've been moving. We could see the pyramids and the Sphinx and the Red Sea."

"But money–"

"My credit card has zero percent APR for another thirteen months," Blaine reminded him. "And we've got plenty of extra since we skipped Russia. Come on, Kurt, five days in Egypt."

Kurt looked at Blaine's grin and the light slinking back into his eyes. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

One night was spent in Alexandria, then they moved down along the Nile to Cairo and Giza and the list of sights they'd compiled on the plane. It was the best time they'd had since they'd been in Russia. They spent five wonderful days seeing the pyramids, touring the Nile, driving a little rental jeep out to the Red Sea, and taking dozens of pictures of the Sphinx. They found presents for everyone at the little stalls and shops, and Kurt bought more books than he could carry. By the time they returned to Alexandria to figure out a flight plane back to Europe, Kurt was pleasantly freckled and Blaine a deep brown.

"There's nothing heading that way tonight," Kurt said as they looked the schedules over in the lobby of their little hotel. "There's one two days from now, ugh. How long would it take to drive back?"

"About a week," Blaine said, his eyes watching the boats on the water outside. "There's always a cruise."

"A cruise–" Kurt looked up at where his husband was staring. "Oh, no. I'm not spending days vomiting."

"You were fine on the Nile and the Red Sea," Blaine countered. "The water up north was really choppy. Think about it," he insisted. "There's one that's docking right now. We could get on board and see the whole Mediterranean. Sicily, Malta, the Strait of Gibraltar. We could go back to Spain, maybe."

"That does sound nice..."

"I'll go ask!"

"Blaine– no, that wasn't a yes!"

But Blaine was out the door. A few hours later, their bags were in a little cabin and the ship sailed west.

* * *

Kurt's stomach held up and adjusted after a few hours. They'd missed the first part of the tour, through the eastern basin and around Greece. But that was fine. Those were areas they'd both wanted to avoid for their own safety, especially after Russia. It was a small ship, and sailed at a moderate pace, west to Malta, then north to Sicily where Kurt squealed like a little kid and spent the evening they had dragging Blaine all over. From there they visited Tunis along the African coast, then another Italian island and then it was west for the Strait of Gibraltar.

At sunset on their last night on board, Kurt and Blaine stood at the bow, Blaine's chin tucked over Kurt's shoulder.

"We should take a video for everyone," Blaine said as Kurt tried to snap a picture. "It'll capture this better."

Kurt switched to video and pressed record. He held it up towards their view, beyond the rails towards the sun's red hues and fading light in a deep blue and purple and orange sky.

* * *

"Oh, Burt, Kurt's sent you a video!"

Carole hurried into the kitchen with his phone and turned him away from the stove. Before he could ask anything, she'd pressed play.

"Hi, Dad!" Kurt's voice said. The screen was filled with a beautiful sunset over some body of water. It was one of the most gorgeous natural sights he'd ever seen. "Surprise, we're on the Mediterranean," Kurt continued. He laughed at something Blaine's voice murmured. "Yeah, we took a detour to Egypt and got you something. Sorry, we haven't called much since Greece. I'm not even sure when this'll go through, but it's your birthday here."

"Happy Birthday, Burt!" Blaine's voice called. The camera shifted and they had a momentary glimpse of Kurt and Blaine's smiling faces. "We'll see you in less than a month!"

The camera turned back to the sunset, already starting to disappear belong the horizon. "We miss you and we love you all, and we're definitely taking you on a cruise of the Mediterranean because this is the best idea Blaine's ever had!"

"Hey! I think proposing was a much better idea."

The camera moved again, first catching a railing and then Kurt's hand seemed to have settled on it. They had a sudden view of Kurt and Blaine, at a crooked angle. Blaine's arms were around Kurt's neck, tugging him down for a kiss in front of the sunset. Burt smiled as they lost themselves in it, and then a whistle blasted overhead as the sun disappeared.

"Oh, whoops, the camera's still on."

"Turn it off. Your dad doesn't want to watch us make out on a boat."

* * *

After three days of seeing the countryside in southern Spain, Kurt and Blaine rented another car and headed north, straight through France to Geneva. It was a long drive, but after so many planes and days on a boat, they were glad to be back in control of their direction.

From Geneva they made a few bookings and found a small cabin in the Swiss Alps to stay at for a few more days.

"I c- c- can't believe they call this August," Kurt said as they hurried inside the little cabin with their last bags.

"Well, this is the mountains," Blaine said as he shivered and dropped his bags on the little couch in the main room. It was an enormous room compared to where they'd been staying. A little kitchenette, a living room with a fire already blazing in the hearth, and two doors–one for the bedroom and the other for the bathroom.

"Ugh, I need a hot tub."

Together, they unpacked their clean clothes and set them in the dresser in the bedroom. It was late afternoon already. Instead of trying the slopes, they took a hot shower together, had something to eat from what they'd bought in town, and snuggled down by the fire.

"Much better," Kurt murmured as Blaine hugged him close under their blankets. "You're always so warm."

"Comes in handy with you as my husband," Blaine said. "Your fingers are like ice."

"I guess that rules out sex tonight," Kurt said, leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Shame. We're finally all alone and you can be as loud as you normally are."

"Hey! You're just as loud as me!"

"Am not!"

Blaine laughed and pressed Kurt down onto the rug in front of the fire. "You absolutely are and I'm going to prove it to you." Their lips met greedily and Kurt was almost ashamed by how hard he was panting when Blaine pulled back to tug his shirt off. "Let me hear you," Blaine said as he nibbled on Kurt's jaw. "It's been so long since I've gotten to hear you fall apart."

"I w- want to hear you, too," Kurt breathed as Blaine started working his shirt open. "We haven't– not since Denmark."

Together, they slowly pulled each layer of cloth off and truly lost themselves in each other after weeks of stilted moments.

* * *

It snowed brutally the first day in the cabin. Kurt and Blaine barely noticed the storm outside over their own pleasure and noise. They drifted from the fire, to the bedroom, to the bath, to the couch, saying they were done and then finding themselves breathing in deeply against each other's skin moments later.

By the time they hit the slopes, Kurt was glad the weather was giving him a reason to wear a scarf. After weeks in the Mediterranean, even just above zero degrees Celsius felt like the Arctic Circle.

"Kurt, come on!"

"Blaine, I'm going to break–ah! I'm going to break my face and you know that's my moneymaker!" Kurt wobbled again and stayed firmly latched onto the bristly fir tree. "You go on. I'll just wait up here and, um–"

Blaine skied towards him with ease. "It's only a bunny slope," he said encouragingly. "See, look at that little girl go. I'll even hold your hand all the way down."

"I– what if I break my butt and I can't–"

"Then I'll just blow you and ride you until it's healed," Blaine whispered with a wink. "Come on," he said. Blaine took Kurt's hand and pushed them towards the slope. "Bend your knees and relax."

"I'm about to break my ass and you want me to– _ahhh!_"

Kurt flailed his arms as he sped down, losing Blaine's hand and sliding neatly onto his butt at the bottom. Blaine slid to a sharp stop next to him, laughing loudly.

"That was _horrible_!"

"Are you kidding? That was great! You made it to the bottom, didn't you? Come on, let's go again!"

"Blaine– no, I wanna stay down here and be a bottom again!"

* * *

By the end of their little trip into the Swiss Alps Kurt had gotten the hang of skiing. He was too stubborn to admit to Blaine that he was really loving it, but Blaine had figured it out when he'd had to drag Kurt away at sundown. They spent their last night pressed together in bed, letting their voices fill the silence of the snowy mountain, finally climbing out of bed at dawn and moving on.

Germany was the last stop they had planned for continental Europe. It was out of their original order, but they passed through Munich, Nuremburg, and ended in Berlin for two days.

"I can't believe the summer's almost over," Blaine said as they strolled along the Berlin Wall Memorial. "We should live out here. Not Germany," he added at Kurt's expression. "Just Europe. Maybe somewhere in London. There's so much to see and learn about here. It's so... different from home."

"We'd miss my Dad and Carole and everyone," Kurt said as he stopped to reach one of the information boards. "It is nice over here, though. London's next. If we like it enough, maybe, after school. I mean, they have the West End, so we could always do that."

"Come on," Blaine said. "Let's go finish packing for the flight."

* * *

Despite their limited time, Kurt and Blaine spent almost a week of their last two in London. Kurt was adamant about visiting all the royal and historical sites, and spent over an hour having Blaine take pictures of him with a Royal Guard. They saw a show in the West End, toured the Olympic Park where the 2012 Olympics had been, and tried more tea than they'd had in their entire lives.

From there it was west to Bristol (with a detour to Stonehenge), north to Glasgow for a few days, across the Irish Sea to Belfast, and then a rather drunken tour down to Dublin. That one, Blaine was happy to say, had been entirely Kurt's idea, though it had ended much better than his stroll into recreational drugs. They tried anything that sounds ridiculous, and ended up quite hung-over during their time in Dublin. On the seventeenth of August, they rented their last car and drove across Ireland to Limerick where they would catch their plane back to Ohio.

"Ten weeks," Kurt said as they looked out from the windows of the airport. "I can't believe it's been ten weeks."

"We've been _married_ for ten weeks," Blaine said, flipping through his wallet absentmindedly, "and my ID still only says Anderson."

"We'll change them as soon as we're back in New York next week," Kurt said. He leaned over and kissed Blaine softly. Overhead, their flight for Columbus was called for boarding. "Are you ready to go home, Mr. Hummel-Anderson?"

"I never left home," Blaine said as he stood and took Kurt's hand. "I've been with him the whole time."


	21. Under the Sea

A/N: Mermen today. Merpeople and water and things. I think I'm gonna post two tomorrow, **Vampires **and **Werewolves **go together yeah? Kind of. There were pictures that went along with this one, too, but alas, I cannot add pictures on this site. Enjoy and survive the Monday.

**Under the Sea**

The deck tipped as Blaine scrambled up the stairs with his satchel. Sirens! Of all the things to run into on his journey to the Americas. In the middle of a huge lightning storm, too. A wave of water flooded the deck, knocking sailors aside as more were snatched up by the shrieking sirens ripping the ship to pieces. So far they'd left him alone, but he wasn't sure why. Their own captain had steered them right towards the rock island. Then the storm had swirled up around them, and now the ship was drifting away in a thousand different chunks of wood and flesh and cloth.

"Blaine, get to the boat! Go!"

The first-mate, Thomas, shoved him down as the ship rocked and more water crushed over the sides. Another shriek echoed overhead and then Thomas was gone.

Blaine slipped as the foremast splintered and toppled into the water. He'd have to run for it as best he could. If he could get the boat in the water, get away from the rock island and the storm and sirens, he'd be okay. He dove over the crushed barrels and flung himself over the side into the little escape boat. It was half full of water already, but Blaine released the pulley as more shrieks and screams reached his ears. It was good enough to get away. He could empty the water out later.

The boat hit the sea and nearly unseated Blaine. He struggled with the oars and finally got them working. It was slow going, but the wreck grew quieter as he bobbed over the tide into the dark. Blaine paused, panting and gasping about eighty yards away. The boat rocked and hopped over the huge waves, but it more than the ship now. It was broken in half, the middle dipping down into the sea.

They were all gone, weren't they? He was out here all alone with no way to reach his parents in America or his brother back in Spain.

A shriek blasted high over his head and then something thundered straight down towards him. Blaine had one glimpse of the siren – a thick, slimy lower body that melted into molted skin, a thin, spiny fin on its head, eyes that glowed like the lightning crackling around them, and two scaly dark wings – before he dove into the water. His boat splintered and cracked as the siren slammed through it and into the water after him. Blaine swam hard, lightning crackling through the water around him.

He couldn't stay down here forever. He'd drown or get eaten like the rest. Water bubbled around him, suddenly hot and sizzling. It was right behind him, right at his ankles, one strong, slimy hand–

Just as he'd turned to look at the siren, to face his death, someone had taken his hand and pulled him down. He was moving so fast he couldn't see. Whoever had him was tugging him along faster than any boat could move. They were surging away from the siren, through many miles of water in seconds, but Blaine had been under too long. His vision was blurring, his throat was tight and his chest ached like his hungry stomach had been displaced.

The hand on his tightened, and Blaine thought they were going upwards. But his consciousness was fading. This was how he was going to die. Underwater without air–

His head broke the surface and someone dragged him onto something solid and damp. Blaine gasped and swallowed a mouthful of air. He heaved in a few more, and rolled onto his side, spitting sea water onto the plank of debris on the beach.

Whoever had saved him, made a huge splash behind him. Blaine turned just in time to see what looked like a fish boy sliding into the water before he passed out.

* * *

Warm sunlight roused Blaine hours later. Water was lapping at his boots and his head had a huge lump on the side. He sat up gingerly and winced. He was on a beach, surrounded by broken wood, flags half-buried in the sand, and even a steering mast.

Somehow, he was alive. Blaine brushed some of the sand off himself and stared out at the water. Nothing in sight. No land, no ships, nothing. How had he even gotten to this island? There had been the sirens, then the storm, and he'd almost gotten away until one had followed him. Then he'd swam until–

The boy. The fish boy. Had that been real? Why would one of those sirens save him?

The something rattle not far to his left.

"Hello?"

There was another rattle, and then the noise stopped. Like someone didn't want him to know they were there. Blaine climbed to his feet and hobbled over the planks and boards towards a little hollow between several huge rocks. He paused as his feet hit the slimy rocks at the bottom. The boy was there, his head and torso resting on the sand at the shore. His lower body was under a pile of wood washing up on the shore around him.

"You saved me," Blaine said as he took a step forward. The boy stared over at him and Blaine tried not to stare back too much. His skin was mostly pale, but there were streaks on his arms, his neck, and jaw that were a deep cerulean and scaly. The parts that looked human were dry and pealing. "Here, let me–"

"Don't," the boy rasped. He shifted under the heavy pile and struggled to pull himself free.

"You're trapped," Blaine told him. "Let me help you back into the water."

"You saw–"

"It's hard to forget anything about last night." Blaine squatted down beside him and looked over the pile. If he could find something to prop it up with, then this boy-fish-person could wiggle out from under it. "Hold on."

Blaine grabbed part of a broken mast and carried it over, edged one end under and started to push. Slowly, the pile tilted up and back towards the water. Inch by inch it went and finally the boy pulled free, but the sight of his lower body made Blaine lose his grip. The pile splattered back down.

"Y- you're a siren?" Blaine hurried backwards as the boy pressed his hands into the sand and started pulling himself towards the water. He'd been saved by a siren. The very things that had been trying to kill him. But where was this boy's head fin or his lightning eyes? As Blaine watched the boy struggle to pull himself along their eyes met. Beautiful blue not blinding yellow-white. "Here, I'll give you a push."

"No, don't–"

But Blaine's hand was already there. His fingers brushed Kurt's back and a thrill shot up his spine. He pushed through it, and finally the boy was back in the water, his pealing skin slipping off into the water and leaving smooth, lighter patches behind.

"Better?"

The boy leaned back and sighed happily. "Wonderful. Thank you."

"Just returning the favor," Blaine said. He smiled uncertainly as his fingers and toes tingled. Something about touching this boy had set his skin on fire. "Do, um, where am I exactly?"

"Half a sun from home," the boy said as he waded out further. "My home," he clarified before Blaine could ask. "I'm Kurt."

"Blaine," he said. "You aren't a siren, are you?"

Kurt laughed brightly and shook his head. Drops of water sprayed Blaine's face. "No way. I'm a merman. Well, I will be soon. I'm a merboy still according to my tribe."

"Oh," Blaine mumbled. "So you're like, half-human, half-fish or something? Are there a lot of you?"

"Yeah, we're all over the oceans," Kurt explained. He draped his arms over a flat rock and stared up at Blaine. "My mother was human like you once. She met my dad when she was trying to cross the ocean. Her ship got snatched up by the sirens and they connected, so she became one of us."

Blaine nodded and tried to keep up. It was such a weird thing to think about. He tugged his boots off and dipped his toes in the water. "I was going to join my parents in America, but now…"

Kurt frowned up at him and reached for his hand. Another thrill surged through Blaine at the touch. Nothing had ever felt like this before.

"Your scales are beautiful," Blaine remarked as Kurt's fingers traced over his veins. "I've never seen a blue like that."

"They're like my mother's," Kurt said. "Hers were this color." Kurt pointed to the deep cerulean, and then the pale green. "Dad's are like these."

"Were?"

"She died about eight seasons ago," Kurt said quietly. "We buried her on an island south of this one. I think it's the one where her and Dad met."

Blaine was quiet for a while after that. Kurt kept a hold on his hand as the sun rose higher and the tide ebbed in. He was just getting ready to ask what he should do now, when a dozen heads popped out of the water.

"Unhand him, human!"

A trident was suddenly against his throat and Kurt was snatched away. Blaine back-pedaled and tumbled onto his butt. More merpeople were popping out of the water, spears and tridents aimed at him. There scales were in every color Blaine knew and ones he didn't have names for. If they hadn't been about to kill him, he would have thought them beautiful. The one with the weapon to his throat was a solidly built man, his bald head shining brightly under the sun and his scaly stripes gleaming a pale green.

"S- sir, I– I was just helping your son–"

"You should have perished with the rest," the man thundered. "All men die when they cross near our waters. Nobody escapes sirens. Explain yourself."

"I- I- I–"

"Dad, please." Kurt swam forward, yanking himself away from the other merpeople. "I saved him. He was almost away if that horrid one with the head fin hadn't followed him. Please, don't harm him. He saved my life, too."

"He– what?"

The trident at Blaine's throat dropped a few inches. He nodded along with Kurt's story of the night before and the last hour until the whole group lowered their weapons. Kurt swam back to the edge and reached for Blaine's hand. He offered it willingly. The merpeople murmured excitedly.

"You've chosen," Kurt's father said in surprise. He looked Blaine over sharply until Blaine had to drop his gaze.

"Yes, I– Blaine, come with us."

"W- what?"

Blaine stared at him in surprise. He'd drown if he went with them. He'd almost drown last night when Kurt had been saving him. If he went he'd never make it. But if he stayed here… He looked back at the bare island, covered in ship debris and sand. There was nothing here; no trees or animals or anything he could live off of.

"Please," Kurt said quietly. His fingers brushed Blaine's cheek. "I promise you'll be safe."

"How?"

Kurt's hand tightened around his and lead him into the water. Up to his ankles, his knees, his waist. Blaine shivered at the cool water until Kurt pulled him close and held him tight against his chest.

"Just breathe, okay," Kurt whispered in his ear. "I promise you're safe."

Then they were drifting out and under. Kurt's eyes held his as they sunk under the surface and as they did the deep cerulean along his arms and neck and jaw began to glow. He leaned in and pressed his lips to either side of Blaine's jaw, his forehead, his nose tip, and then his lips. A prickling warmth ran through Blaine, starting at his lips and surging down his torso, arms, legs. But when he opened his eyes his legs and feet were disappearing. A beautiful deep red tail was forming from his waist down. His pants side off and down to the sea floor as they surfaced.

"I'm a– but–"

"Shh," Kurt murmured. He pecked Blaine of the cheek and eased Blaine's jacket and shirt off his shoulders. Deep red and purple scales were started to form along his arms. "Come on. I'll show you where home is."

Blaine looked his arms and tail over, felt his jaw and neck, and then let Kurt take him by the hand once more. They floated out from the island, out to sea, and together they dived under the surface for home.


	22. Vampires

A/N: So you'll be getting two letters today! Vampires for right now. This one is **NC-17 and a slight blood play warning.** They are vampires, but its nothing too major.

When I get home today, which'll probably be early Wednesday morning my time (EST), I'll post the second one, **Werewolves.**

Enjoy for now! Tomorrow will be **X-Men!**

**Vampires**

"Would you get off?"

Blaine knocked Tina's arms from around his waist and glared at her. She glared back just as fiercely and pressed close to his side. They were hungry, both of them. It had been almost a week since they'd fed, but no amount of starvation in the last thirty years had ever convinced Blaine to find solace with her.

"But I'm _hungry_," she snapped. "And you're gorgeous and your blood would _rush_ if we–"

"Well we're not," Blaine said. "I'm hungry, too, but I'm not fucking around with you. You knew that before you ever turned me."

"Only because you led me on," Tina grumbled.

Blaine came to a halt in the middle of their snowy alley and bared his teeth at her. He might be younger, both in terms of his old biological age and his age as a vampire, but he'd learned early on into his transformation that a power surged through him that didn't with the others. Not with Tina or Santana or Sam. If he wanted, he could scare them, and right now he was starving for something, and soon it wouldn't matter what.

He backed her up against the wall and snarled at her. "The only leading back then was you tugging yourself along into your own fantasies. _I_ told you I was gay. _I_ told you I had never had any interest in women. _I_ even told you I wasn't interested, but you turned me anyway, remember?"

"I– Blaine, please."

She shook as he stepped away, but it wasn't from the exhilaration she'd always hoped to find with him. Fear. It was what had always seemed to plague him and follow him.

"Let's just find some drunk idiots outside of the strip club and get this over with. I'm tired of starving and I'm tired of stale blood from the hospital," Blaine snapped. He couldn't be bothered to hide his teeth again. His eyes were probably already dark and awful looking.

"Okay, okay, keep your gel in," Tina said. She straightened her coat and hat and looked him over. "Put those away, would you? Honestly, you look demonic with those awful black hole eyes."

"Opposed to the blood red seeping into yours, huh?" Blaine's stomach knotted and gnawed. "Look, I can smell them, just around the corner. Go lure a few idiots down here with the promise of a threesome and I'll wait."

"Why do I have to go?"

"Because this is a women strippers club. It's either lesbians coming out or a bunch of doofus straight boys," Blaine said. He pressed his back against the alley wall behind the dumpster and slid down. "Just find a pair who've had too much so they won't remember. I'm starving."

"Oh, fine," Tina whirled around and marched off, all the way grumbling about the horrible things she was planning to do to him later.

Blaine hunkered down to wait. The scent wasn't strong from the club right now, but the falling snow was masking some of it. All winter it had been like that, the worst since his third year from humanity. It snowed for days, stayed under the freezing mark, and the wind whipped and burned everything it touched. Nobody but the homeless lingered outside anymore and Blaine hated the idea of going for any of them. Not only would their blood be thin and tasteless, it would bring them even more harm and then their bite marks would be discovered.

Something down towards the bend in the alley rattled and scraped along the wall. Blaine pulled his jacket tight and his hood down. It was probably just a homeless person, searching for food or thrown out blankets in the dumpsters. Tina always took a while finding someone suitable, and while Blaine's stomach liked to complain about it, his head knew she always picked the best.

Louder bumps and booms echoed from around the corner and Blaine tensed. Maybe it wasn't a homeless person then. They rarely made so much noise. He listened for a few minutes, but it was silent. Then he sniffed and a warmth he'd never felt flooded his belly. Another vampire, one he didn't know but one that smelled wonderfully like himself and nothing like the others.

A giggle reached Blaine's ears and then whoever it was sounded like they stumbled. "I smell you," the person said in a sing-song voice. "Such beautiful, warm blood. Such–"

But Blaine had stood up as the man turned the corner. Their eyes met, both deep and black and endless. A warmth filled Blaine that almost made him feel human again, but it was different, too. It was tight and knotted and frayed like a leash. The man across the alley had stopped in his tracks, staring over at him, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"Blaine? We'll have to try somewhere else," Tina's voice called as she turned off the street into the alley. "They're all drugged up and there's cops starting to float around. Blaine?" Tina looked down the alley where Blaine's gaze was directed. "We need to go. _Now_." She started trying to pull him towards the street, but Blaine barely budged. "Blaine, come on!"

But he's– his smell–"

But Tina was kicking and shoving him into the street now. In a moment they were hustling down the road, past the club and towards the park. Blaine's head was full of that scent, that warmth still tingling through his spine and senses.

"Who–"

"I'll explain later," Tina said. "We're getting out of here."

Tina grabbed his hand, turned on the spot, and they were gone. As the wind whipped across the entrance to the park the man came to a halt at the gates, sniffing and panting.

* * *

"Did you bring me anything?"

Blaine shoved past Sam and grabbed Tina's wrist before she could disappear into her side of the rundown warehouse. She hadn't explained why she'd jumped them all over the city or why she'd forced him onto the fucking subway packed full of drunks and homeless people he'd never dare steal blood from or anything about that vampire in the alley. Even now, when they were way out on Staten Island, Blaine's chest and nose were full of his scent.

"Will you fucking tell me what that was all about already? Who was that?"

"It's– forget it. Forget _him_," Tina insisted.

Sam was looking interested now and Santana's head poked out of her room. "Sounds like I missed Blainey boy almost knocking dicks with someone. Details, Cohen-Chang."

"But it doesn't matter," Tina said for the tenth time since she'd jumped them from the park. "It was–"

"There was a man," Blaine said before she could brush it all off and never give him answers. "I was waiting in the alley and this man, this vampire, showed up. His eyes were black like mine are when–"

"Would you forget about him?"

"No, because I've heard the same stories you have and I can still smell him, Tina," Blaine said loudly. "You're scared of him, and it doesn't all have to do with me."

Blaine looked from Tina to Santana and Sam, who both looked unnerved now. Both of them had been around longer than himself, had more knowledge of this world and had maybe heard of this same man.

"Who is he?"

"He– nobody knows for sure," Sam said awkwardly. "I've heard stories about him. Remember that group outside the city? The ones that were slaughtered? They say he did that. He killed his own kind and sprayed their blood all over the street. Some say he's the first of our kind. I dunno. They always talk about his black eyes, but nobody knows his name."

"There are lots of vampires that kill other vampires," Blaine said. "There's entire gangs of them in the inner city that just fight and kill each other for fun. Besides, I've got the same black eyes, Sam, and I've never done anything like that."

"Yeah, well, you're you, aren't you?" Santana offered. "Dapper little gentlemen turned dapper little vampire never hurting the homeless or the sick or the weak. He's been around for as long as this city, he's lost whatever humanity he kept when he because a vampire."

"No," Blaine said sharply. "I think you're wrong. None of us have, not even a little bit. Everyone's scared of him, and I'm sure that's why he stays alone and hidden. There's– he's important."

"Blaine, no," Tina had finally found her voice again and she was sounding hysterical. "You can't try to find him. He'll kill all of us and destroy you. Please, promise you won't go after him. I know his smell is strong and h- he's a match, but please. Don't bring that down on all of us."

Blaine looked from one scared face to another and finally nodded. He'd probably never see that man again anyway. In a city as big as New York is seemed unlikely, especially if he wasn't out there looking.

* * *

Two weeks later, Blaine took a late night trip to hunt on his own. Santana had run off two days ago with some girl called Dani, Sam was holed up playing video games, and Tina was under the comforter in her room, blogging. Even three decades later it still struck him as odd that they were so human compared to everything he'd imagined about vampires as a child. No sulking around or brooding in corners or coffins, instead they sat around the old abandon house they'd been squatting in for the last six years, and whined about wanting to sleep.

He set off into the city around midnight, looking for a nice club to dance and drink and potentially find a good fuck and a short feast. They were all back on stale hospital blood packets again, and Blaine was sick of it. Hunting was their calling, even if they limited how and when they did so. They didn't kill or turn others, they took enough to survive and knock the person out before they left them somewhere safe.

The club was surprisingly full when Blaine stepped past the bouncer and ordered a drink at the bar. Enough men for him to go fairly unnoticed and to make sneaking off simple. Blaine downed a few drinks, caught the eyes of a few men around the room, and then made his way onto the dance floor and into the crowd. The deeper in the undulating group, the better. Nobody would notice what he might do when it was dark and loud and packed full of sweating bodies.

Blaine danced with a few men who sauntered over, smelled the blood thrumming through their veins and moved on. There was a sharp, sweet scent in the air of the club, and he'd wait all night to find it if he had to. He could already feel it on the tip of his tongue, thick and warm and satisfying.

"There you are," a soft voice said behind him. If it had been deeper and a man's hands had snuggly caught his hips, Blaine might have thought it was Sam looking to bring him home. But it wasn't. He inhaled deeply and there it was. This man was what was giving him patience, that warmth that he breathed in through his nose and clung to the back of his throat.

A thrill ran through him as the man from the alley pressed close to him and started guiding his hips. "I've been hoping you'd find me," Blaine said. He twisted his head and finally took a good look at the man. A little taller than himself, hypnotic blue eyes at the moment, and a sharp, intelligent smile.

"Have you been looking for me forever?" the man whispered as they started rocking to the rhythm thudding through the club.

"I had to swear not to," Blaine told him. "I wanted to, but I'm glad you looked."

"Mmm," the man murmured. His lips and nose tip skimmed along the column of Blaine's neck, his fingers gently tugging Blaine's bow tie loose. "We should go somewhere private for a bit."

"Sorry, I don't fornicate with strangers," Blaine teased. He arched a little back against him and spun around in his arms. "Besides, I like to dance before I fuck."

"Fair enough," the man agreed. "Though I might have to stretch myself again if your dancing needs take too long."

"You– damn," Blaine groaned and pulled him closer, sniffing the sweet blood flowing under his skin as he grew hard in his jeans. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt. Have you had enough dancing then?"

Blaine took his hand and pulled Kurt through the crowd towards the back hallway's restrooms. "Pick a stall," he told him. Kurt stepped past him as Blaine took one long look at the hallway, then hurried in and shut the door.

"It's empty," Kurt said. He smiled slyly and slipped into the handicapped stall. Blaine locked the door to the restroom and followed him inside. "Come here."

Blaine took Kurt by the coat and pressed him back against the wall. There was a teasing smile on Kurt's face, his fingers tracing and trailing over Blaine's neck and jaw.

"You've never been with another vampire, have you?"

Blaine shook his head and started sucking on Kurt's neck. His pulse was racing, much like Blaine's own, awaiting the thrill of feeding and mating with his own kind in a way that was more exhilarating and satisfying than with a human. He traced his tongue along the sharp tendons of Kurt's throat, over the thrumming pulse of his artery and back up to his jaw.

"You smell wonderful," Blaine breathed. His bow tie hit the floor and Kurt started to shimmy out of his pants. "Like nothing I've ever smelt before."

Kurt's pants hit the floor and he tugged one foot loose. Blaine groaned as Kurt's fingers started pulling his jeans open. "Such a beautiful young boy," Kurt murmured. "So intoxicating. It'll be better when you start fucking me." He raised his leg as Blaine's jeans slipped down his hips. "Fuck, slid into me, please."

"But I'm not–"

"I like it rough," Kurt assured him. His hand closed around Blaine's cock and guided the tip to his entrance. "Hurry up. I can't wait to let you feed."

Blaine pressed his face into Kurt's neck, took a shaky breath, and arched his hips forward and up, his right hand grabbing onto Kurt's raised thigh as he sunk in. "Fuck, that's so good," he moaned. His body jerked a little as Kurt's blood rushed faster. His stomach was knotted and gnawing, ready to taste what he'd been craving for weeks.

"Good boy," Kurt breathed. His neck arched more into Blaine's mouth as he cried out. "Rough and fast, please. Yes." Blaine grunted and started to move, not bothering to worry about there not being enough lube from when Kurt had stretched himself however long ago or someone busting the door in and finding them. Kurt's fingers were stroking through his hair, pulling the gel loose as Blaine's found a mind numbing, brutal rhythm.

He gasped and groaned, feeling Kurt's blood surge as he moans echoed around the bathroom and the dull thump of the music from the club hummed through the wall. There was such a sweetness to Kurt's skin, to his scent. His taste would be delicious. He had to taste, to breathe Kurt in and have him in his veins. Blaine sucked up and down Kurt's neck until he found his favorite spot, sucking hard and angrily until the skin was red and welted.

Kurt cried out as his teeth sunk in, piercing gently until blood gushed into Blaine's mouth.

"You're so sweet," Blaine groaned his hips snapping forward and pausing. He lapped up the blood running from the two puncture marks on Kurt's neck and sighed, his eyes turning hazy and his mind stalling into a peaceful paradise. This was what he was meant for. "So good," Blaine muttered as he closed his mouth over his bite marks and started sucking greedily.

"Good boy, Blaine," Kurt murmured. His fingers kept stroking through his hair and petting the back of his neck. "Drink until you're full, sweetheart. Yes, that's so good."

Blaine did. He lapped and sucked despite knowing he was taking too much and going too far. But Kurt's blood never seemed to thin or run out, not for him. When he finally pulled back he was dazed, his eyelids heavy and his belly plump and full.

"S- sorry," he stammered. "I've never– lost control."

"It happens the first time," Kurt whispered as he kissed over the blood on Blaine's face. "Especially with a young beauty like you. Now fuck me until I need to feed."

And Blaine did. He couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to. Somehow Kurt had total control over his actions and his pleasures and Blaine was willing to seep right into it. Kurt's fingers tangled into his loosened curls and urged him on, faster, then slower, deep and brutally hard, and then so achingly slow his knees shook. Kurt fisted himself between them, humming and sighing and crying out, gasping encouraging words and directions until he arched into Blaine with a delighted shout and came between their bellies.

"You are a really good fuck," Kurt panted as he eased Blaine out of him. "Your turn."

Blaine stumbled back against the opposite stall wall as Kurt shoved him and dropped to his knees. His hand cupped Blaine's balls, and his left hand started stroking him slowly. Kurt's mouth, however, started sucking over the inside of his thighs, finally pausing at one spot. Blaine's feet stamped urgently in place as Kurt started to nibble and stroke him more roughly.

"P- please, Kurt, do it," Blaine panted. His boot slammed back against the stall wall as Kurt's teeth sunk into his flesh and he came hard, shouting and moaning as Kurt stroked him through it and started sucking at the oozing cuts on his thigh.

He ended up on the floor with Kurt's greedy mouth feeding off one thigh, then sucking him back to full hardness, before starting on the other thigh. By the time he came over Kurt's fist again, he was crying in bliss and his head was swimming. Kurt crawled into his lap and kissed him fiercely, biting his lip until Blaine did the same and their blood mixed along their tongues.

"Wow," Blaine mumbled as Kurt started to nuzzle his cheek and drag his hands all over his exposed skin. "Can we do that again?"

"I'm free every hour of every day," Kurt said. They stayed there on the floor for a while, sucking the drying blood and come off each other until Blaine's legs stopped shaking. Kurt stood up and pulled his pants back up as Blaine found his bow tie in the toilet and grimaced.

"That can stay there," Blaine decided. "I have more."

Kurt's arm slid through his as they left the bathroom and headed back through the club and to the snowy street beyond.

"When can I see you again?" Blaine asked him. "You're– this, us, we're–"

"We are," Kurt agreed without letting him finish. "I'll find you."

"I'll be looking," Blaine said.

They parted after a long, slow kiss under the street lamp, Kurt heading one direction and Blaine the other.

* * *

"You've been knocking dicks," Santana said the moment Blaine stepped into the house. She looked him over appraisingly and nodded. "With a vampire. I can smell the dried blood on your man thighs."

"I– shut up, Santana."

Blaine tried to hurry to his room, but Tina and Sam both stopped him and yanked him back to the couch.

"It was _him_," Tina snarled. "I can smell him on you. I'll never forget that smell. What were you thinking? You swore not to look for him."

"And I didn't," Blaine snapped. "He found me and I only swore not to look for him. There were never any promises about fucking and sucking or anything else."

"But it'll only lead to trouble," Sam said worriedly. "You've heard the stories–"

"Yeah, stories, Sam. Stories aren't always real or true," Blaine reminded him. "Look, I met him. His name's Kurt and he's _wonderful_. I've never felt so connected to someone in my life. I'm not going to stop seeing him either, okay, so drop it now."

Tina's eyes bled red as she snarled and stalked off to her room. Santana shrugged and went back to texting while Sam looked him over uncertainly.

"He's okay?"

"Yeah, Sam, it was fine. Amazing really," Blaine said. "It's not like I'm planning on bringing him home any time soon."

"Okay," Sam said after a moment. "Okay."

* * *

It was three days before Kurt found him again. This time outside one of his usual haunts during a snowstorm. Kurt was there, waiting to drag him inside for another rough fuck that ended with them slowly sucking the blood out of each other for hours, learning the rhythm and flow of each other's veins until the sun rose.

Two days after that they met in the evening at a coffee shop and for the first time Blaine found himself in Kurt's apartment. They were there for four days, mapping out each other's pulse points, the spots on ribs and thighs and necks that made each of them arch and cry out and twist until pleasure was thick in the air.

"Come back to bed," Kurt called sleepily.

Blaine sat at the desk, on Kurt's very old laptop, trying to get the sluggish machine to send Tina a message. His friends had to be worried by now even if they assumed where he was.

"In a minute," Blaine said. He hit send for the twentieth time and finally had some success. "Finally!" He closed the laptop and spun around in the desk chair to face the bed. Kurt's place was only a small studio apartment, but it was well-kept and marvelous decorated. Kurt smiled over at him from the bed, dark sheets tangled around his hips as he patted the spot beside him.

"Come on, I'm hungry and not for blood this time," Kurt said. He yawned as Blaine laid down beside him and ran his hand over the little pudge of Blaine's belly. "You're so cute when you're full."

"You're one to talk," Blaine teased. "You get that dopey, sleepy look and want to cuddle until you're hard."

"Shut up and fuck me from behind," Kurt ordered sleepily. Blaine laughed softly and snuggled up behind him.


	23. Werewolves

A/N: Second one for today! More supernatural creatures, but this one has a very different direction aka little wolf pups Klaine.

Tomorrow's **X-Men!**

**Werewolves**

Blaine yipped happily as he tottered after his older brother. Romping outside was wonderful. Being in the woods with his pack was more thrilling than he'd ever dreamed. He was six now. His parents had finally deemed him big and strong enough to go out with them. As he stumbled, his mother nudged his hind leg and set him right.

_ Careful,_ she chided.

Blaine squeaked in excitement and bound around her legs. It wasn't his first transformation. He'd been transforming since his birth, but it was the first one outside with his pack, instead of locked in their mansion with only his mother or father or brother for company all evening.

_Play! Wanna play, Coop! _

Cooper growled as Blaine tried to hop on his back and knocked him sideways. _Get off, kid. I'll play later. Miranda and me have other things to do._

_ But–_

Cooper raced off with Miranda when they reached the lake and Blaine didn't understand it. His brother loved to play with him? So what if he was a decade older? Cooper always made time for Blaine.

_ Mama, play?_

A high yawn escaped his mother as she stretched and settled down beside the lake. _Later, sweetheart. It's time to relax until the moon is higher. Come, it's time to nurse and then we'll nap until its time._

Blaine gave a pitiful little squeaking growl, but his mother's paw closed around his belly and pulled him to her stomach. As he nursed, Blaine pouted and whined. What good was it to be an alpha if everyone always told him what to do?

As his mother drifted off, Blaine settled down against her, frowning and wishing he could be out running. Everyone was so _boring_ outside. They were all relaxing and snoring and cleaning their paws. At least when he'd been stuck inside he'd gotten to play with his human toys. After what felt like hours, Blaine glanced at his mother, then eased himself away from her. If she wouldn't play with him, then he'd just go find someone who would. Cooper was out there somewhere with Miranda. His brother would have to play with him once he found him.

Nose to the ground, Blaine sniffed and snuffed and followed the trail as best he could, away from the lake and downhill into the forest.

Blaine hobbled and tumbled his way through the fallen leaves, broken branches, and rabbit holes. He'd show his brother for running off and leaving him with a bunch of sleepy adults. At the bottom of the hill, Blaine paused and sniffed for a long time. His brother's scent went one way, left toward what smelt like more water, but there was a second scent, stronger and lovely like the vanilla tea Mama always made him drink the mornings after their transformations.

He followed the new scent, shuffling through soggy leaves and broken twigs as the moon rose higher in the night sky. It grew stronger the further he went and Cooper's scent all but disappeared. Finally he reached a break in the trees. The smell had led him to the edge of a small clearing and sitting next to a little pond across from him was a wolf pup pawing uncertainly at a butterfly.

_I found you!_ Blaine squeaked, bounding towards the other pup. It was a boy pup, another werewolf. He could smell it. _You're the smell I followed._

The other pup backed away from his enthusiasm, hunched down and bared his teeth fiercely.

Blaine paused and stared at him. But the other boy continued to show his teeth and back away.

_ No, I wanna be friends. _Blaine pawed the air between them hopefully. _Play._

Slowly, when it became obvious Blaine wasn't going to pounce or harm him, the other boy eased his front away from the ground and looked him over.

_Who are you?_

_ I'm Blaine and I'm six and a half!_

The other pup stared at him and sniffed closer until he could circle Blaine. Blaine scratched himself nervously until the other boy stopped.

_You smell safe._ The other boy stopped in front of him and pawed the air between them. _I'm Kurt. I'll play with you._

Blaine yipped and darted around the clearing. For hours they chased each other around, wrestled, bound through piles of leaves, and finally rolled around on their backs together until they were both sleepy.

_I should head back to Mama soon,_ Blaine yawned and rolled towards Kurt. _She's probably worried._

_My Daddy and Mommy probably are, too._ Kurt stretched his little legs and let Blaine cuddle against him. _Daddy worries cause I'm their only pup and it's all up to me when they're old._

_ You're an alpha, too?_ Blaine rolled right into Kurt's legs and licked his chin and nose._ I'm going lead Mama and Papa's pack some day._

_Kurt? Kurt, where are you_?

They both jumped up at the howl and Blaine cowered down in the leaves. Kurt was trembling, too, as a proud, stocky alpha male entered their clearing.

_Kurt, we've been looking all over_. _It's time to– who are you_?

The big wolf gnashed his teeth and growled as Blaine covered his eyes with his paws and whined.

_ Daddy, this is Blaine. He's an alpha, too!_

Kurt's dad. Blaine squinted through his paws up at the huge wolf. His ears had started to rise up and Kurt's dad's teeth stopped snapping at him. The older wolf looked between them before another howl rent the air.

_ Blaine? Blaine?_

_Mama!_ Blaine sat up and tried to howl in reply. All he managed was a high, shrill like whistle. Kurt's dad growled fiercely and protectively tucked Kurt behind him as Mama charged into the clearly.

_ Blaine, there you are. How could you wander off like that?_ She dropped down and picked Blaine up by his scruff before she caught sight of Kurt's dad. Blaine yelped as he was let go suddenly, and his mother leap over him and growled at Kurt's dad.

They snapped their teeth and growled as Blaine tried to stop her and Kurt yipped at his daddy.

_Mama, no!_ But she didn't listen. Neither did Kurt's dad.

They backed away from their parents and Kurt darted to his side, burying his snout in Blaine's fur and whining. The sound made their parents pause and look towards them. Blaine licked Kurt's ear and nuzzled him.

_Blaine, honey, what's this all about?_

_ Wanna play with Kurt. _Blaine boldly pawed the air towards both of them until Kurt looked up. _Kurt's my friend._

Their parents looked at each other in alarm, and slowly scooped each of them up by their scruffs. The moon was sinking below the tree lines when one of them finally spoke.

_They'll never agree to this._ Kurt's dad sat his boy down and licked his forehead.

_I don't think we can stop them, no matter how badly we want to._ Blaine was set back on his paws and he scampered over to Kurt's warmth. _Sweetheart–_

_ Kurt's my favorite_. Blaine took a strong sniff of his fur and yipped. _Can we play every full moon?_

_ Please, Daddy! I wanna play with Blaine!_

_ Come, we'll talk it over with your mother in the morning._

Kurt's dad picked him up again and hurried off.

Mama's teeth closed around Blaine's neck and he was hoisted up and carried away back to the lake. In the morning, when they were all human once more, Blaine heard his parents arguing over his nighttime venture with his new friend. He didn't understand the problem. Kurt was amazing. They were going to be friends for the longest time.

"Blaine?" His father appeared in the kitchen where Blaine was twirling his spoon through his oatmeal. "Listen, about this boy you met–"

"He's so great, Papa!" Blaine beamed and accidentally flung oatmeal across the table. "And he likes to play with me and he's got super soft fur and guess what? He's an alpha, too! We can be alphas together."

"That's, well, son…"

"And we can be best friends forever like you and Mama and I bet he likes piano, too!"

His father wilted in the doorway and disappeared, calling for his mother. Blaine didn't know what they said next, but when his father came back, he gave him the best news Blaine had ever heard.

"I'm going to go with you to meet with Kurt next month, okay? Me and your Mama. We'll talk with his parents and work some play dates out, not just as wolves."

Blaine beamed and knocked his bowl of oatmeal off the table as he vaulted into Papa's arms.


	24. X-Men

A/N: So close to the end! So this is sort of a mesh between the movies and the comics, but more towards the movies since that's more familiar to people. Blaine as Rogue and Kurt as Leech (but a more modified human form like in the movies). No triggers or warnings.

Tomorrow is **Yuletide. **Did I mention one of these is GYOW? Cause that's tomorrow. I wish I had a way to give you guys a family tree for it.

Enjoy!

**X-Men**

"Sam, go away."

Blaine moved to slam his door closed again, but his friend didn't budge. Ever since he'd been brought in by Wolverine last year, Sam hadn't left him alone. He wanted to be friends, he said, but Blaine couldn't do that. He couldn't do anything with people unless he wanted to kill them or put them in comas. Like that Sebastian boy at Dalton. Even now Blaine couldn't get up the courage to call and ask how he was.

"But you've got to meet this boy," Sam insisted. He snagged Blaine's gloved hand and started trying to yank him through the half-open door. "The professor just had him brought in and I think you're going to love him."

Blaine gave in and stumbled through the doorway at Sam's insistent pulls. It would be faster to go with him and get this over with. He stood back once Sam had him in the hallway, straightened his jacket, cuffs, gloves, anything that covered his skin and protected everyone else. "If this is like that time you told me there was a chocolate fountain in the kitchen just to get me to make you a grilled cheese–"

"It's not, I swear. I am hungry though, so maybe you two can make me something later, but seriously," Sam stopped and turned to him. He made to reach for Blaine's face to hold him still, but thought better of it. They'd tried Sam's ice powers once before, and while they'd worked momentarily, it had ended with Sam in the hospital wing. "There's a new mutant and he can, like– our powers don't work around him, Blaine. You might be able to, like, touch someone."

As Sam started dragging him down hall after hall, Blaine tried to think over what he'd just heard. It couldn't be true. If there was someone like that he'd only suck the power right out of him. Just like he did with everyone else. They finally stopped outside Professor Xavier's office. The door was cracked and Storm was just visible inside.

"You'll be safe here. They won't do any more experiments on you and your father can visit or you can visit him as much as you like."

Professor Xavier said something, something Blaine couldn't make out and then, much louder, he said, "Perhaps we should let Sam and Blaine introduce our newest student to the academy. They seem quite eager to meet you, Kurt."

The door opened. Storm shook her head and waved both of them in. Professor Xavier was behind his desk, facing the window. A boy their age was sitting across from him. He was pale with a hat pulled down over what Blaine suspected was a bald head.

"Kurt Hummel, I'd like you to meet Blaine Anderson and Sam Evans. They are like you. Boys, show him around the classrooms and then to his new room, please. He'll be sharing with you, Blaine."

"But Professor–"

"Now, now, I think, and I may not be right about this, but I think you two will find you have a lot in common, if you give it time."

Blaine glowered at him, then caught sight of Kurt watching him. He tried to look friendly, but what was the point? He was a danger to everyone here, and rooming with someone – someone who didn't know anything about his horrible abilities – would endanger them both. The sooner Kurt didn't like him and understood, the better.

Storm and Professor Xavier left them in the hall outside the office. Sam immediately started rambling on about the school, classes, the other students, and then themselves.

"I'm on the team. I'm Iceman," Sam was saying as they entered the hallway for Blaine's, and now Kurt's, room. "Blaine's, well, he hasn't joined, but they want him to."

"I'm no use to the X-Men," Blaine snapped. "What good is– never mind. This is our room." He opened the door and waved Kurt in. There was a new cot moved into the empty side and a second desk. Blaine looked over his own bed and desk and the dresser in the corner. All pretty clean and organized. If he was stuck with Kurt he hoped the other boy was at least neat.

"See? I can turn things to– it's not working." Sam was in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. "That's so– oh, right! I forgot. It doesn't work around you, that's so _weird._"

"It was stranger for the man with the blue fur. He turned to skin. I've never seen anyone so amazed," Kurt said. It was the first time Blaine had heard his voice and it made him pause. High, as clear and bold as the full moon in the night sky. It was beautiful.

"I'm going to get something to eat," Sam decided. "Practice my ice away from you. Bye guys!"

Sam shut the door on his way out. Blaine settled down at his desk and frowned. Great. He would run off and leave them alone, like being around this boy was going to do anything for his abilities. Nothing but a cure would help him and that would never happen. He'd spend the rest of his life hidden away, not touching or interacting or loving anyone.

"So your name's Blaine, right?"

Blaine looked up and stared at him. Kurt was smiling uncertainly, maybe hopefully. That was the worst part of it, really. Crushing someone's kindness to protect them. It wasn't fair to anyone.

"Yeah, that about covers it." Blaine flipped a book open and pretended to be interested in its pages. But he couldn't. Kurt had pulled his chair over to Blaine's desk to talk. "Do you need something?"

"I just… I have so many questions," Kurt said quietly. "I've never met another mutant before. One my age, I mean. And they're, like, all here. Where are you from?"

Blaine turned to him. He meant to be mean, even cruel, to brush Kurt off and save him from his own nightmare. But Kurt was beaming shyly and it stopped him short.

"Blaine?"

"Huh? Oh, um, I'm from Ohio. Westerville."

"No way, I'm from Lima," Kurt squeaked and bit his bottom lip. It was cutest thing Blaine had ever seen. "I lived with my dad. My powers started showing up after my mom died. Scared my dad to death at first. One of his mechanics could feel my powers. He had some sort of latent powers, made him good with machinery except when I was around. Almost lost his whole arm because of it. But what about you? I know Sam can do stuff with ice, but you never–"

"It doesn't matter. My powers are worthless," Blaine said quickly. "All they do is hurt people."

"Well then maybe I can help," Kurt said eagerly. Something tight wrenched in Blaine's chest at how hopeful he was. Nothing could help his powers. Why didn't anyone understand that? "Here, see if you can do whatever you do."

Kurt moved closer, so close Blaine could see the green and blue and gray flecks in his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to move away. "No, it's– there's nothing you can do."

"Sure there is," Kurt insisted. "My power negates other mutants powers, so yours won't work if I'm close enough. Professor Xavier hopes I'll be able to rein my powers in somehow, make it so that only happens if someone touches me. Control the range or something so it'll only happen if I touch them. Like this."

Before Blaine could stop him Kurt's fingertips brushed his cheek. He flinched, waiting for Kurt to make the same wretched, gasping noise the others always made, but there was only silence.

"See? It's all right," Kurt said. He stroked Blaine's cheek again and Blaine melted into the touch. "They told me, warned me I guess, about your abilities. Professor Xavier thought ours would balance out."

Blaine couldn't speak. He gasped hoarsely as Kurt's hand cupped his jaw and held him closer.

"Hey, don't cry. It's–"

"Nobody's been able to touch me in years. Not even my parents, you know? They were scared of me. Kept me locked up in my room until the X-Men found me." Blaine wiped his eyes and stared at Kurt. "C- can I have a hug?"

Kurt laughed a little and rubbed his cheek again. "Yeah. Of all the things you could– here."

Kurt awkwardly pulled him into an embrace and Blaine sighed and let go. But Kurt gave a startled yelp and toppled over backwards. Blaine looked at him and more tears started falling, but they weren't happy now.

"I should have know," he muttered. "I can't have a normal life. I'll never have one because if I let myself go, then I can't control it and it hurts _everyone_ I touch."

"That's not– I'm sure once I figure out more control you can let go and if I keep my control then we'll be fine," Kurt said. "Just give me a chance, please. Nobody else can do this, right?"

Kurt took Blaine's hand, peeled his glove off and squeezed. "Please, I want to help. Maybe, with me, together, somehow, we can give you a normal life."

Blaine looked at their joined hands, felt the warmth of Kurt's skin and the pulse beating under it. "This is a horrible idea. You'll get hurt. I'll hurt you. I hurt everyone."

"I'm sure I'll hurt you, too," Kurt said. "That's what people do, isn't it? We hurt each other, especially when we don't mean to."

"That doesn't mean we should," Blaine told him. "It may never work. I might lose control and you'll die if I do. Once it goes off, I can't stop it."

"Well, you work on that and I'll work on growing my hair back again," Kurt said. He took his hat off and winced as he ran his hand over his scalp. "I look like my dad. It's horrible."

Blaine hiccupped as he tried to laugh and went to open a drawer in his dresser. "I've got a bunch of hats you can use. I wear them to cover my skin up more, just in case."

Kurt beamed and started looking through them. "These are lovely, Blaine. Oh, look at this one! And this one!"

"Everything all right in here, boys?"

Storm was back. Checking in to make sure Blaine hadn't killed Kurt probably. Blaine frowned, but Kurt pulled a new hat on and took Blaine's bare hand.

"Yeah, we're great!"

Storm smiled at the sight and nodded. "Dinner's in ten minutes. Wash up and be on time, okay? I don't want any more midnight grilled cheese parties."

"But that was Sam's fault!"

"Ten minutes."

She left and Kurt swung their joined hands between their sides. "Come on. You can tell me what's good and what's awful on the menu."

He tugged Blaine out of their room and down the hall, talking brightly and loudly. The rest of the students stared as they passed. This boy was touching the untouchable, and Blaine, for once, was glad someone dared to.


	25. Yuletide

A/N: All right, so this is the GYOW one. But it's not really the GYOW you're all familiar with. Not entirely. This is set in the future, beyond the one shots of Evan and Oliver and way, way, WAY in the future. There are seven parts/POVs for this piece. Each is set in from Kurt, Blaine, or one of their children's perspective, starting with the youngest. So Xavier (19), Cole (23), Anna (24), Oliver (35), Evan (37), then Kurt and Blaine, who are 54 and 55 respectively. It's a huge jump, to what's already posted, but surprise spoilers. Sort of.

FYI You do **not** need prior knowledge of GYOW to read this one. It's essentially Kurt and Blaine later in life and their children (and grandchildren).

Now, Evan and Oliver both have their own families, so there are a lot of new names and characters hanging out. Evan and his wife, Beth, have seven kids (because they're insane). And yes, Beth is Puck and Quinn and Shelby's Beth. I'm sure I'll get that written out at some point. As for their children, three (Maddie, Nic, and Damien) are a trio of siblings they adopt since they were both adopted. The other four (Lyra, Lizzie, Iris, and Max) are biologically theirs. Oliver and his husband, Caden, have twin boys (Julian and Donovan) who are four.

I have a family tree I made for the tumblr post, but since I can't attach it through here I hope that helps. I know there's a lot of little names jogging around in this one.

Enjoy, the final prompt tomorrow is **Zombies! **

**Yuletide**

"Dad? Dad, Papa, I'm home!"

Xavier stomped his boots on the mat in the foyer and shook the snow out of his hair. A snowstorm on Christmas Eve, of all days. The drive from his college had been a complete nightmare. He pulled his gloves, scarf, and coat off. His bag of laundry could wait until it stopped. There were plenty of clothes still up in his room.

"Papa? Dad?"

Silence. He frowned down the little hallway towards the kitchen and dining room. No delicious smells or chatter or music. Nothing. Had they changed the house this year without telling him? Xavier clocked it in his head. Last year at his uncle's. 2046 had been his grandparents. Then Evan's the year before, Aunt Lily's in 2044, and back to his dads' house in Milton. Oliver was the only other possibility, but he, his husband, and their twin boys lived in an apartment in New York City. The whole family could never fit in there. It was definitely their house this year.

"Hello?" Xavier hollered, but nobody answered. There wasn't even a fire in the grate when he passed by. He was getting ready to settle down and stare at the twelve-foot tall Christmas tree until he fell asleep when something creaked upstairs. Then it squeaked and knocked against the wall high on the left of the living room. Cole's room. Someone was home then. Home and ignoring him.

Xavier hurried upstairs and flung his brother's door open. "Did you seriously ignore me– _Oh, gross!"_

Cole was spread out, face down, on the bed, his current girlfriend on top of him. Xavier covered his eyes with his arm, but he could still hear the bed creaking as she – was this Jamie or Paige? – thrust against him.

"Oh, Jamie, right there– Xavier, get out!"

Xavier fumbled blindly for the door and slammed it shut. Face burning, he tried not to retch as their groans followed him back towards the stairs and the balcony overlooking the living room and the enormous tree. He leaned his forearms on it, and stared down at it until he saw stars. Anything to get rid of the last image he'd seen. God, his brother was ridiculous.

The front door opened. Xavier spun around and looked down over the other side.

"There you go, sweetheart," he heard his dad's voice say as a pregnant belly stepped through the doorway. "Go put your feet up. We'll get the rest of the groceries."

"Anna!"

His sister looked up and beamed as he hurried down to hug her. She was of average height with brown curly hair, and Papa's eyes but she looked so much like Dad it gave him the creeps sometimes. Finally, someone was here besides himself and the Horny Duo. He pulled back and looked her and her swollen belly over. Being away at school had completely wiped her surprise pregnancy from his mind.

"Gosh, your belly's so big," he blurted. She smacked his stomach. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting it."

"Well, I'm due next month," she reminded him. She leaned in as Dad and Papa bustled in with grocery bags. "Is Cole still taking it up the ass?"

Xavier grimaced in answer.

Anna rolled her eyes. "At least he's kept this one around for a while. She was the one at the pool party over the summer, remember? Jamie or Jasmine or Just-Passing-Through."

Xavier laughed and together they followed their dads into the kitchen where he finally got his bear hugs and the delicious smell of dinner started to fill the house.

* * *

Cole strutted down the stairs an hour later, Jamie trailing behind and patting his ass every few steps.

"I don't know how you aren't sore after that," she whispered. She was quite tall, as tall as Dad, but still six inches shorter than himself, with caramel skin, and bright brown eyes. Her hair was kept short, but neat. Jamie adjusted his hoodie on her shoulders as they stepped into the foyer.

"I haven't been sore from that in years." Cole shrugged as they turned through the dining room to the kitchen. "Just don't look Xavier in the eye, all right? We'll never hear the end of it if everyone knows what we did all day."

"And night," Jamie added.

They stepped into the kitchen where the others were talking and laughing over some dorm story Xavier was telling. Cole glanced around in surprise at the small group. His dads, his sister and her helium belly, and Xavier. No Evan and his horde or Oliver and his Yankee. No grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, or nephews.

"Where is everyone?" he demanded. He took the bar stool next to Anna as his brother and dads chopped and diced and stirred. "We're missing, like, two dozen people."

Anna frowned and nudged him with her foot. "Two dozen? Really? There's only–"

"Evan, Beth, and their horde, so that's nine. Add Ollie's and we're at thirteen. Then Aunt Lily's, so seventeen, grandparents brings it to nineteen if we only count Pop and Grandma Carole. Add Uncle–"

"All right, all right," Anna snapped. "You made your point." She snatched another cookie from the basket on the counter. "The storm," she said finally. "They all decided not to risk it because of the snowstorm."

"Don't blame them either," Xavier said as he texted someone on his phone."There's already a foot out there. Campus was a blizzard trying to get to my car. John's stuck at the airport in Philly trying to get home."

Papa danced past with a cutting board of diced peppers. "All flights will probably be grounded until they get it cleared up. Supposed to snow until early morning on Boxing Day."

Jamie gave a low whistle and grabbed a cookie. "Guess we'll be here for a while."

"As long as this little one stays put," Anna said as she rubbed her stomach, "then we're good to go. Unless you know how to deliver a baby already?" she smiled teasingly at Xavier. "Is my handsome doctor brother ready to help me deliver?"

Xavier made a face and shook his head. "You'd be better with Cole than me. I stay away from vaginas."

"From what I understand Cole doesn't have much interest in them either," Anna added.

Cole glared at her. "Just because _you_ walk in when I'm taking in up the–"

"Whoa! Okay, no more!" Dad hollered. He pointed his spatula at them all in turn. "I don't care if you have sex lives, but we do not want to be a part of them, got it?"

The boys nodded and Anna rolled her eyes. "Does that mean I should wear one of those impressive Victorian gowns with the hooped arches under the skirt so you can't see my little bundle of sexual intercourse?"

Xavier choked on the cookie he'd just bitten into. Dad and Papa sighed loudly and ignored her.

"When are you due?" Jamie asked curiously, clearly trying to get off the subject.

Cole tuned out quickly and circled around the counter into the kitchen. Thinking about Anna having a baby was weird. Thinking about Xavier in _college_ was weird. Only yesterday they'd all been teenagers living here day in and day out. Evan and Oliver had been the adults back then, struggling to make rent and to call once a week so Papa didn't fret. Now he was suddenly twenty-three with a steady girlfriend and a decent job. When had he stopped being sixteen?

"Are there any– yes, nipple cookies!" Cole scooped five up and burnt his hand on the baking sheet. "Ouch!"

Dad sighed in exasperation. "Twenty years you've been burning yourself for cookies."

"Twenty years and he still hasn't learned," Papa finished. They both chuckled as Cole shoved the first Hershey Kiss topped peanut butter cookie into his mouth.

* * *

Anna quickly realized that the greatest thing about being home for the holidays and pregnant was not having to make food for herself. Her dads were cooking constantly. There was a fully-stocked refrigerator of everything she could dream up, and if she hesitated for even a second while looking in the pantry one of them was there, asking what she wanted as they grabbed their car keys.

As the six of them sat down in the dining room with their completed meal, Anna sighed happily and rubbed the same spot the baby had been kicking for the past hour. Two huge homemade dishes of lasagna – one vegetable and the other a more traditional Italian style – salads, garlic biscuits, and sopapillas drizzled in honey and cinnamon sugar for desserts. Her dads' kitchen was paradise.

"Tuck in," Papa said as he sat down the last plate. "I expect this table cleared by the time Dad has to pop the button on his jeans."

"Blaine, I do not–"

"It's okay to have a cute little belly," Papa said. He silenced Dad with a kiss and patted his stomach. "You'll have one as cute as Anna's soon enough."

"At least yours won't kick," Anna reminded him. "Oh, I wish she'd stop. I need that rib."

Everyone started eating. Anna filled both of the plates that had been set down in front of her, one with a heaping salad, the second with two large slabs of lasagna. She wolfed them down as everyone talked, and piled her lasagna plate up again. To her right, Jamie and Cole kept giggling and feeding each other bites. She wondered if he'd realized how in love he was yet. Xavier certainly had. He kept batting his eyes at Cole and making sly little comments.

Her dads sat across from them, being just as adorable as they'd ever been. She didn't understand how they could still be so sweet together after almost forty years.

Devon had been a wonderful woman, smart and full of excitement, but she'd had no interest in settling down or having even one child. James hadn't been much different. Love was nice, so was romance and sex, but it wasn't everything either. She'd decided to have a baby by herself almost a year ago. She didn't need a romantic partner. She was quite content with herself, her life, her friends, and the soon to be baby added to it.

"How's work?" Xavier asked her. "I haven't read the latest issue."

Anna shrugged and rubbed her stomach as she finished her second plate. "It's nice having an excuse to work from home all the time. Well, from here as it's been since September. Oh, we _did_ have this great article on a band we used to see in town all the time. You remember Magicool? They signed with Adeline out in Berkeley. They actually live a few blocks over from my new apartment. You'll have to come by this summer and see it."

"And to meet my niece or nephew or gender-neutral variant of that," Xavier cooed at her belly. "What is the gender-neutral variant of that relationship?"

"No idea. I'm sure Riley will have a suggestion. They're always coming up with great options," Anna said. "Ouch! That's my rib, kiddo. _Please_, pick somewhere else."

Xavier crinkled his nose and stared at her belly. "How weird is it? Having something moving around in there?"

"It's even weirder when she presses her foot against my belly. You can see the outline of it now," Anna raised her sweater a little and tapped by her protruding belly button. A little foot thumped against the spot and then pushed.

"Wow, doesn't that hurt?"

Anna shook her head. "Not right there. It does up higher or when she sits on my bladder like right now. Yup, she's bulldozing the three cups of Cherry Pomegranate juice I just downed. Dibs on the bathroom!"

* * *

Bath time had once been Oliver's favorite part of the evening. In the first years of their marriage it had been a time to relax together and talk. Then it had become a discussion time for a name, then two names, and then a family experience when the boys had moved from the sink to the tub. Even through their first year and a half, bath time had been soothing and a nice break for him. Now, with two precocious four-year-olds, it was a devastating attempt at staying dry and patient.

"Julian, Donovan, this is a bathroom, not the site of a tidal wave!"

Another wave of water splattered in Oliver's face. "Caden! Get your butt in here and help me wash their hair!"

A pot clattered in the kitchen sink down the hall. "Just a minute!"

"Now!" Oliver hollered as Julian painted his face with bubbles. "Julian, you two have had your fun, it's time to get clean and get out so Santa can come, okay?"

"No!" Julian shouted defiantly. He shook his head so hard his dark hair flung water all over the bathroom. Beside him, Donovan giggled.

"No, we wanna splash!"

"Boys, for the love of–" Oliver choked as his mouth was filled with suds and water. His own blue eyes twinkled back at him from both olive faces.

"I'm here, I'm here. Jesus, Ollie," Caden helped him sit back on the toilet. "Next time, the dishes can wait. Here," he filled one of the Dixie cups on the sink and handed it to Oliver. "Rinse it out, okay? I'll hog-tie the rugrats."

"No, Daddy! No! Splash time!"

"I don't wanna! I wanna play!"

Both boys wailed as Caden took over, washing their hair and then scrubbing them clean. Once his mouth was soap-free, they drained the tub and dried their boys off.

"Can I wear my dinosaur jammies?" Donovan asked as Oliver scooped him up in his fluffy purple towel and carried him to the boys' room. "I wanna be a T-rex and eat all the things!"

Oliver kissed him on the cheek and laughed. "Of course you can, sweetie. What about you, Julian? Any pajama requests?"

"Pretty princesses, so I can defeat dragons with my flamesword!"

"Sure thing," Caden agreed. "Those are my favorite. They've got Mulan and Tiana and Belle and all those awesome ladies on them."

They changed the boys into their pajamas and tucked them into their little twin beds. Caden picked out the Night Before Christmas and started to read as Oliver called his dads on his tablet. After a few rings, the screen blinked in.

"Hi Dad!"

Suddenly there were a handful of voices on the other side.

"Is that Oliver?"

"Ollie! Favorite big brother!"

"Liar, Evan is your favorite. Ollie is _my_ favorite!"

"Kids," Papa's voice hollered. His face appeared next to Dad's. "Hey, kiddo. How's the snow down there?"

"It stopped a few hours ago," Oliver said as he glanced out at the snow covered street. Manhattan was a soft, brilliant white tonight, the streets and sidewalks covered. He knew it wouldn't last for long here, but for now it was untouched and beautiful. "I bet it's coming down up there."

"Twenty-six inches so far. Cole just checked," Dad said. "I wish you boys were all here. The house is so empty this year."

"Funny how it's so empty, but it's somehow _louder_ than usual," Papa said with a pointed look over his shoulder. The shouts of laughter stopped. He turned back and smiled at Oliver. "Do we get to see our grandtwins before Santa comes?"

"Just a second. They're already falling asleep," Oliver stood up as Caden closed the book. Donovan and Julian were both dozing off now. Caden waved at the tablet and blew Dad and Papa a kiss. "Merry Christmas!"

They tucked the boys in snuggly, kissed them goodnight, and went to their own room. "Mmm, finally alone," Caden murmured as Oliver set his tablet down and started to pull his clothes off to change. A hand tugged at his jeans and a moment later they'd fallen down his hips. "Whoops, guess I should pick those up for you."

Oliver laughed softly as Caden's mouth made a wet trail down his stomach as he dropped to his knees. "You're ridiculous."

"You love ridiculous."

"I did marry a Yankee who loves the Red Sox," Oliver reminded him. "It doesn't get much more ridiculous than that."

* * *

"Beth, I don't– god, why didn't you come get these?" Evan stared up and down the feminine products aisle at the grocery store. "I barely know the difference between pads and tampons."

His wife was silent, but it was a silence that meant she was glowering at him. "Yes, you do, Evan Michael. Don't act stupid just because our daughters' vaginas are bleeding now."

Evan flinched at the phrasing but continued down the aisle, pausing next to a pair of women. They giggled at the sight of him and went back to comparing boxes of tampons. He stared from box to box, each with different sizes, designs, purposes. Why did all three of them have to start at once? They weren't even the same ages.

"Look, I've given Lizzie and Lyra a few of my panty liners for now. Maddie's in the shower," Beth said calmly. "Get pads. It's their first periods, it's best to keep it as simple as possible for them until they're more comfortable."

"Okay, okay," Evan mumbled. He parked his cart on the other side of the aisle next to the shower gel and started looking. "Any particular type? There's so many. God, this is like shopping for shoes."

"Pads," Beth repeated. "Get a few light, regular, and super-absorbent. I don't know what their flows will be like yet. Ones with the little velcro wings that hook underneath. They stay in place best."

Hot all over, Evan found the ones described and filled the entire cart. The cashier eyed him strangely as he ran the two-hundred dollar purchase through and then hurried outside with his fifteen bags of pads.

The drive back to their house was short and nice. Northern California was nice and warm almost all year round compared to New York and Boston. When he got home, Evan loaded all of the bags onto his arms, and hurried inside.

"I'm back," he hollered. "Girls, I've got, like, more pads than I thought existed."

Maddie appeared first in her bathrobe, her dark hair swinging and brown eyes dark. Clearly, she wasn't anymore thrilled than he was. She swiped a bag out of his hand and disappeared back upstairs.

Lizzie and Lyra trampled in from the living room. They looked like Beth and their biological grandmother, Quinn. All dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and thin-limbed. His twins were too young to already be starting. Eleven was too young for periods, wasn't it? He wasn't sure. Maddie was thirteen at least. Lyra rubbed her belly and grimaced, but Lizzie was all smiles.

"Hi Daddy! Oh, thanks!" She grabbed her own bag and skipped off to the closest bathroom.

Lyra glowered as she tugged a third bag off his arm. "I didn't sign up for this crap," she said moodily. "Can't I just have boobs and hips without the pain and blood? I don't even want kids."

"I wish I could give that to you," Evan said helplessly. "Your mom has a bunch of Motrin upstairs if you need some. Like, the super awesome kind. And there's a heating pad in the hall closet up there."

"Thanks," she muttered. Then she kicked the first step with her sneaker and stomped upstairs.

Beth appeared with a cup of hot cocoa. "The boys and Iris are getting ready to watch Frosty," she said. "Let's leave the girls alone for a while, okay? First periods are never fun."

"I can't imagine how any period at all would be fun. Except the last one maybe. Or the 'thank god, I'm not pregnant' one," Evan said as they entered the kitchen. He dropped all of the bags onto the counter and Iris and Nic charged over, thinking he'd brought take-out.

"Exactly how many did you buy?" Beth muttered. She scanned the counter as Iris and Nic climbed onto the bar stools.

"Dinner?" Nic bellowed as he grabbed a bag and then pulled a face. "Kotex? What are– oh, ew!"

Iris peered over his shoulder and frowned. "I'm never having a period," she declared. "Never ever."

Evan tried not to groan in misery. Iris was ten. In another year, if she followed her biological sisters… Four teenage girls with periods all at once. Why had they ever decided to have child one after the other, and then adopt a trio of siblings in the same age range?

A crash from the living room was followed by Wawa, their Corgi, scampering away to the dining room.

"Max did it!"

"I did not! It was Damien's fault!"

The two boys dived at each other and tumbled off the couch as the fallen lamp flickered from its new home on the floor.

Beth blew out a frustrated breath and glared at him. The Christmas tree creaked and then fell over on top of their youngest two.

"Ouch!"

"Ugh, I hate pine needles!"

"I'm so glad we're tricking them all with coal this year," Evan said quietly.

Beth kissed his cheek and went roaring into the living room as the boys clambered to their feet. "You're both about to be grounded for the rest of your break!"

"Mom! Dad! How do these things hook into my underwear?"

Evan closed his eyes at Maddie's shout, then winced as he heard her door slam and her thundering footsteps. "Merry Christmas to us." He hurried upstairs to figure out how to help.

* * *

Kurt laughed loudly as Beth and Evan finished telling them about their evening.

"Oh, I'm so glad we had four boys and one girl," he told them. "I don't think I could have handled so many periods at once. I remember that first year after Anna started. God, I thought I'd wake up to her skinning us alive every couple of weeks."

Blaine stepped out of their bathroom, still brushing his teeth. "What?"

Kurt leaned the tablet towards his stomach. "Maddie, Lizzie, and Lyra all got their first periods earlier."

Blaine pulled a face and dribbled toothpaste down his chin. He disappeared back into the bathroom.

"How are the rest of our lovely grandkids?" Kurt asked.

Beth groaned and rolled away from Evan's tablet. But Evan straightened his pillow and sat up a little more. "Max and Damien had another fight, knocked over the tree, and broke the lamp. So they aren't speaking, just sending nasty paper airplane messages across the room to each other. Nic tried to eat a pad, then threw up, and Iris is determined to never have a period. I don't blame her."

Kurt laughed once more and settled down into Blaine's side as his husband joined him in bed. "We warned you that seven was an insane number of children. Five, even with ages spread apart, was difficult."

"It was a nightmare with Anna and Cole. Always running off in the middle of the night to go to this show or that party," Blaine mumbled. "I'm glad we had Evan and Ollie first. We could stand on our own feet thanks to you boys."

"Right, well, we're doomed," Evan said miserably. "They're all insane."

"Take after you," Beth called from out of sight. "Ugh, can't they just go away to college already?"

"How was Xavier's semester?" Evan asked his dads. "He's still doing pre-med right?"

"Yeah, he's fixed on it, but I think he'll be a good doctor," Blaine said. "I never would have had the patience for it."

"And Cole? And Anna?"

"Anna's about to pop, and refuses to stop writing her articles. As much as I'm glad she loves her job, I do wish she'd take a real break. She's due in a few weeks," Kurt said. "I'm sure she'll have the baby before the first even though she swears she's due at the end of January. Cole is–"

"In love," Blaine beamed at the screen. "Completely in love with this one. I'm sure of it."

"Cole?" Evan frowned at them as Beth rolled back towards the screen. "Sounds suspicious. He doesn't really do love."

"He doesn't know it yet," Blaine said. "So, shh, keep it secret."

"Will do," Evan said. He yawned and slid down under the covers more. "I miss being home for Christmas. Is it still snowing?"

Kurt nodded. "Almost three feet out there and still going."

"Wow, I miss the snow, but I don't, too."

"I'm sure Blaine'll drag us all out there to play in the morning," Kurt said with a teasing smile at his husband.

Blaine stuck his tongue out and then kissed him wetly on the cheek.

"We'll let you two get some sleep," Evan said. "I know it's late there. Merry Christmas, we love you!"

Kurt ended the call and set his tablet aside. "You slobbered on my cheek and I just finished moisturizing."

"Aw, are you starting to get cute wrinkles, babe?" Blaine kissed his cheek again and then placed another at the crinkles at the corner of Kurt's eye. "You're perfect. I love seeing your wrinkles and gray hairs and your little belly. Reminds me of my own."

"Blaine Xavier Hummel-Anderson, I do _not_ have gray hairs," Kurt said crossly. But Blaine hugged him close and pulled the covers up to their chins.

"You do and I've been by your side long enough to see every single one. There's even a few in your little beard right here." Blaine kissed the spot on his jaw and placed a second right on his lips.

* * *

Cole's excited hollers woke Blaine and Kurt up the next morning.

"Three and a half feet! It's a winter wonderland!"

Kurt groaned and pressed his face into Blaine's chest. "Do you think he'll ever lose the enthusiasm?"

"I hope not," Blaine said. He kissed Kurt's cheek and untangled himself from his husband. "You sleep. I'll go calm them all down."

Blaine stretched and found his pajamas where they'd been tossed last night. It was a little after seven when he entered the kitchen and found Jamie and Cole pulling on their snowboots and coats.

"Off to go sledding?"

"Hell yeah!" Cole yanked his hat on and raced outside. Jamie quickly followed and Blaine was left alone to make coffee and relax. After twenty minutes of watching the pair from the kitchen window, the phone rang. Blaine quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo, Merry Christmas!"

Blaine grinned and retook his seat at the table. "Hey, Dad. Merry Christmas. We're all missing you two."

"Ah, we're enjoying a quiet holiday at home," Burt said. "I love all of those grandkids and great-grandkids to death, but it does an old man good to have a quiet Christmas."

Blaine nodded and smiled. "I'm sure me and Kurt will find out soon enough. Evan and Beth are having a field day, I'm sure."

"Aren't they always? Crazy kids. I could barely handle one," Burt said with a laugh. "Oh, Carole says hi. Have you two heard from that crazy brother of yours yet?"

"No, he's been quiet," Blaine said. "I'm sure he'll get around to calling all of us soon enough. You know how forgetful he is. We did get their Christmas card on time this year. The whole fridge is covered in cards. Evan, Oliver, Puck, Rachel, Mercedes. Makes me feel old."

"Hey, fifty-five is not old," said Burt. "Now when you reach seventy-seven, then you'll be old. And I'll sit back and laugh at you."

Blaine smiled sadly and agreed. Burt was getting old, so was Carole. The thought that this year might be their last wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. Any year could be Burt's last, and for years it had worried Kurt. But since his heart attack when they were in high school he'd been surprisingly healthy. There'd been a small cancer scare one year when they were in college, but since then he'd been in tip-top shape.

"We'll come down for New Year's," Blaine decided. "Once the snow clears and Cole heads out. Xavier and Anna can come, too."

"She's due soon, isn't she?"

"Next month."

"You boys have done good for yourselves," Burt said after a moment. "I'm so proud of you guys. Of all of you."

"Burt–"

"Hey, now, don't get that sad tone with me," Burt chided. "I'm old, Blaine. I say sentimental things because I've got nothing better to do. Except old people sex, but even that gets hard after seventy. Got it?"

Blaine closed his eyes and smiled anyway. "Somehow I don't think it gets hard, if you know what I–"

"Hush up," Burt snapped, but he laughed for a solid minute anyway.

"I'll have Kurt call when he gets up, okay?"

"Sure thing," Burt said. "I'll be making our call rounds to everyone. Love you, kiddo. Make sure you give Kurt and the kids a hug for me today. And call your sister. God knows I don't want her calling me and shouting because you haven't answered your phone again."

"I will. I promise. I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas."


	26. Zombies

A/N: We've reached the end! Z for Zombies. So this one featues bp!Blaine, although there is no smut of any sort. There are also no direct encounters with zombies, in case anyone is worried. Just mentions more than anything else. For anyone who has used the Zombies, Run app, the code names at the beginning with be familiar!

And that's the end of it. Alphabet Klaine is finished. Um, Too Late will be continuing sometime in the next week, and I've got a few little surprises that'll be cropping up soon as well. Enjoy number 26 and have a good weekend!

**Zombies**

"Runner Five? Come in, Runner Five. Do you copy, over."

Kurt grimaced as the lift rattled to a stop on the surface. It was day break and quiet for once, no storms or howling winds or drifts of snow. Only silence and damp, squelchy mud greeted him as he unchained the gate and stepped outside. The air was warm for so early in the day, but it might have been mid-summer by now. He couldn't be sure. They'd lost all track of time at one point right after the outbreak, but they'd done the best they could to reestablish it once life was stabilized underground.

"Runner Five? Kurt, would you answer me," Rachel snapped. "I see your signal on the surface so I know you're ignoring me."

"Shut up," Kurt finally answered. "I'm sending the lift back down. It's hard to hear over it."

"Right, the tower's about three miles southeast," Rachel told him. It was the same thing everyone in the control room had been saying all day yesterday. "And the break looks like it's on the north side. No packs or anything are showing up for about five miles out. You should be clear."

"Great, thanks. I'll give a shout when I get there. Play some good music this time, will you?" Kurt told her as he stepped out onto the path and stretched a few times. He'd done most of his stretching below ground, but it didn't hurt to take a few more minutes and enjoy real sunlight and fresh air. "Warn me if–"

"That's my job, yours is to run. Get moving."

Kurt stretched his hamstrings once more and then started a steady jog towards the tower. He'd been there a few times before. The first had been to pick up a lost child in the weeks following their journey down into the network of sewers, then a year after that he and Runner Three, a woman by the name Katrina, had gone back to patch up the tower's radio communications and satellite functions for their use. Since then they'd been using it for their runners' above ground journeys to keep an eye out for hordes while they searched for food and necessities.

After twenty minutes of running with Madonna pounding through his headset, Kurt slowed down as the tower loomed up through the thick foliage. It wasn't much, not after eight and a half years of being above ground with those left behind, but it still functioned and they left it alone for the most part. There was nothing of interest in an old satellite station for the undead.

"All right," Kurt said heavily. "I'm here. Where's it at?"

"Inside," Rachel said, sounding bored. "It looks like it's where the first patch is. We're lucky we've got any communications at all according to your dad."

"Yeah, well, tell him to get his chubby butt up here and fix it then," Kurt grumbled. He unbolted the main door, pulled his flashlight free and took a look inside. Just as dark and gloomy and empty as always. No new smells or blood that he could see. Kurt hurried in and pulled the bolt closed from the inside. Better safe than sorry. "I might lose you once I get down to the first generator, over."

"Clear us when you're finished," Rachel said. Then the radio fell silent. Kurt rolled his eyes and headed down to the basement, checking radios and generators as he went. Finally, he reached the northern basement wall and found the problem.

"Rachel? Rachel, can you hear me? Someone's been in here, over," Kurt called into his headset. "Recently by the looks of it. They spilled… I think it's orange soda. I can still smell it."

After a few seconds, Rachel's voice crackled to life. "Finn, stop, I'm– ah! Kurt? Kurt, tell your brother to stop!"

"Finn get back to work," Kurt snarled. He bent down to examine the ruined wires and finally found a broken cup on the ground. "Someone's been here recently," he repeated. "Human, I'm guessing. Real human, I mean. It looks like they were trying to use the generator to do something, contact someone maybe. I'm not–"

Kurt turned around and his mouth fell open. "Rachel, you're an awful radar watcher." He clicked his radio off again. "Hello. I'm Kurt."

The man in the shadows shuffled his feet. "Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he said quietly. "Listen, I'm sorry a- about the radio. I was just trying t- to find help and–"

"It's all right, I can fix it," Kurt said gently. "Are you hurt at all? How'd you end up here?"

"We went out looking for food," Blaine explained. "They found us and I locked myself in here. I think they're all…"

He trailed off and leaned back against the wall. Kurt watched Blaine take several deep breaths as he shined his flashlight closer. The other man, more a young boy really, was filthy. His shirt was ripped and caked in mud and dirt, his pants were so torn Kurt wasn't sure how they managed to stay up, but his face was clearly young and handsome.

"Come on. I'll fix this up and then you'll go back to base with me," Kurt told him. He stepped closer and tentatively gripped Blaine's shoulder. It was thin and trembling. He couldn't have been older than nineteen, the same age Kurt had been when this had all started. "It's going to be okay."

Kurt set to work quickly, pulling the ruined wires out and replacing them with what he'd brought in his bag. After fifteen minutes, he reset the generator and sat down beside Blaine while he waited for it to warm up.

"So you're about nineteen then?" Kurt asked. He looked Blaine over, the way his hands were clutched tightly together and his arms were looped around his knees. Instead of answering, Blaine rocked slowly and shivered. How long had he been here on his own? The generator had been in need of minor repairs for several months, but since the rest had been fine and the weather terrible, they hadn't bothered to send anyone up to fix it until now. "Blaine?"

The man jumped at Kurt's touch and his eyes darted around the room wildly. "Sorry," Blaine mumbled. "It's hard being on your own for so long."

"How long have you been here?"

"Maybe three months? I'm not sure. There were so many snow storms, I sort of last track of the days," Blaine told him. "Before that I was at a camp with a bunch of other guys I grew up with. We were all away at school when it happened. I'd just turned nine. They're probably all gone now."

"You're younger than I thought," Kurt said in surprise. "But I'm older than I look, too, so I guess I shouldn't assume so much."

The lights flickered on overhead and the generator started to hum loudly. Kurt hopped back up and checked it over quickly. "Everything looks good. Come on, we'll get you a bunk and a bath and you'll stay with us now." Kurt held his hand out. "Unless you'd rather stay here with your spilled orange soda."

"No," Blaine said. He met Kurt's eyes and reached for his hand.

* * *

Rachel started bellowing at Kurt as soon as he got out of the tower. Explaining Blaine hadn't been easy, but he'd shut her up and together they'd jogged back to the lift. Kurt was surprised at how well Blaine had kept up. Of course, Blaine had grown up running out here, much different from the childhood Kurt remembered. Before the quarantine, before the disease had taken so many. He'd had the option to sit around and play on the computer or watching television if he wanted, get fat off junk food and soda. Blaine hadn't. All he must have known was running.

When they reached the lift Kurt dialed in his activation code.

"Runner F– Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, would you answer me," Rachel bellowed. "Who are you bringing with you? Are they clean?"

"I already told you I found a boy, a man. His name is Blaine, he's–" Kurt scanned Blaine's eyes, his hair and lips. "He's clean in respect to disease, not so much in hygiene."

"Hey, I've been locked away in a radio tower for I don't know how long!"

"Shut it," Kurt said. "Rachel, have Carole ready to scan him and everything when we get down, okay? He'll need a full exam."

"F- full exam?" Blaine echoed as the lift gate chugged to a stop in front of them. "What does that mean?"

"Like a physical," Kurt said as he unlocked the gate and waved Blaine inside. "Nothing fancy or difficult. The trip down is a little rough, so hold onto this."

He showed Blaine the strap for his hand, shut the door, and put in a second access code. The lift shuddered and started to drift down and Blaine yelped and grabbed onto Kurt.

"W- why are we going down? No, it's dark. I'm so sick of the dark. You can't see them, you can't see them!"

Kurt caught Blaine at the second bump and slid down the wall with him in his arms. Blaine was shaking violently, like he was having some sort of panic attack. He wasn't sure what it meant, but Kurt held onto him and rocked him and whispered soothingly as the lift trudged slowly downwards. It wasn't an enormous distance, but the cables were slow for safety and noise.

Fifteen minutes later, the lift slowed to a halt in the base. Carole was there to greet them.

"He's had some sort of fit," Kurt told her as she helped him get Blaine to his feet. "Come on, Blaine. It's all right. We're gonna give you a bath, okay?"

"Bath?" Blaine mumbled. "Huh?"

"It's just down the corridor," Carole said gently. "Get back, all of you. Back!"

Kurt and Carole hooked one of Blaine's arms over their shoulders and pushed through the curious group. There weren't many of them down here, but all of them were more curious than was safe. They finally got Blaine down to what they'd turned into a medical bay during their first months underground. It was the same room Kurt had had more than his fair share of physical examinations in. Once after every trip up, others every few months to test his endurance and strength for being one of their base's runners, and the bi-annual one everyone went through to check for signs of disease.

"Sit him in that chair first," Carole told him. Kurt lowered Blaine into the armchair against the wall as Carole started checking him over. He leaned back against the wall beside Blaine, the man's hand clutching his own so tightly his fingernails cut into his skin. Slowly, Carole brought Blaine around. "There we go. How do you feel?"

"Kind of sick," Blaine said quietly. "Where are we?"

"Lima base," Carole told him. "An underground base of survivors, and you, Blaine, are our newest member. We have to run a full physical exam first and take some blood to make sure you aren't infected, but a bath first, okay, sweetheart?"

"I– um, what?"

Carole motioned towards the big basin they used to decontaminate people they found on the surface. It had been almost two years since they'd found someone, but Kurt remembered the last time they had. He'd been out on a supply run with Josh, Runner Two, and they'd found a little girl of about ten. She'd been hysterical and it had only gotten worse once they'd brought her down here. It hadn't taken Carole long to figure out that she was newly infected. Kurt didn't think he'd ever forget watching her be put to sleep and then taking her back up to the surface to leave her several miles off in the forest.

"A bath," Carole repeated. "We need to check your body over for signs of contamination, cuts, bruises, and clean you up, too. Come on, we'll get you some new clothes to wear, too."

Blaine stood up. "No, it's– do you have to watch?"

"Dear, I'm a nurse," Carole said gently. "I've seen it all, and I know this is uncomfortable, but you are entirely safe with us in this room, okay?"

Kurt stepped towards him and took his hand again. "It's fine, I promise."

Blaine looked him in the eyes for a long time before he started unbuttoning his shirt. There weren't many left on it to undo, but when he reached his jeans he paused. Carole was already looking over his back and chest.

"Dirty, but no scars or cuts. It's all right, dear."

"No, I, um– I'm different," Blaine said slowly. He shuffled his feet and hugged himself. "D- down there. I'm not– I don't have what you do, I mean." He nodded towards Kurt and stared at the ground.

Kurt looked down at the front of his jeans. What in the world did he mean by that? Carole, however, seemed to understand. She stopped looking his chest over and stroked Blaine's cheek until he looked up.

"Don't you worry about that, sweetheart," Carole soothed. "It doesn't matter, okay? I just want to make sure you're healthy."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was still confused, and unbuttoned his jeans. They fell off before he could even mess with the zipper and Kurt tried not to stare. Now he understood what Blaine had meant. Blaine's abdomen tapered down into sharp angles that ended in a smooth expanse of dark hair with a slit. It wasn't what Kurt had expected, but really it didn't make any difference. Kurt helped him into the tub as Carole turned the water pipe on and filled it up.

"Kurt, why don't you go down to the mess hall and get your second meal before it ends," Carole suggested. "I'll get him checked out and in the system." She leaned in and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, all right? If he's fertile then they'll be all over him to reproduce and he doesn't need that right now. He's quite okay besides mental trauma and needing to eat."

Carole kissed his cheek and went back to her charts. Kurt made to get up to go, but Blaine's hand clutched his tightly.

"Stay, _please_."

And Kurt couldn't say no to the fear in his voice, the instinct Blaine had to hold on to him like a lifeline.

"I'm here," Kurt said as he sat down beside the tub and stroked Blaine's curls. "I'll stay with you, Blaine."

When he looked up Carole was smiling softly at both of them. Kurt looked away, his face suddenly hot as Carole went back to work.

It was almost an hour later when Blaine was cleaned up, fully examined, and climbing out of the tub and into fresh, clean clothes. Carole was finishing up her file on him when the metal panel that served as a door slid open. Kurt's father entered the room with a plate of food and a smile.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Blaine shook his hand and took the offered plate as Burt turned to Carole. "He all checked out?"

"Yes, he's quite healthy for being on his own with only… was it orange soda and canned ravioli?" Blaine nodded and Carole continued. "I'm setting him up with Dr. Cosgrove for tomorrow afternoon, but there's no signs of infection or any markings."

"Dr. Cosgrove? Why would he need to see her?"

As Blaine shoveled food into his mouth, Kurt brushed his curls off his forehead and listened to his dad and stepmom whisper. They'd ask all sorts of questions next, where he was from, about his family and what his life had been like for the last eight years. Kurt only hoped Blaine could handle it right now.

"Blaine, kiddo, I wanna talk with you a bit," Burt said as he sat down with them and Blaine finished eating. "Nothing invasive. Just about where you've been staying."

"I went to Dalton, sir. Um, the basement in one of the building's was where we ended up for a few years. Under the kitchen so we had lots of food, but then," Blaine shivered and Kurt put his arm around him. "The infection got in, all the teachers got it and then a lot of the older boys. I was fourteen by then, and we sort of just packed up and ran for it. Took as much as we could carry and found somewhere else. That's where I was before now."

"And how'd you end up in the radio tower?"

"We went out looking for food again," Blaine said. He swallowed and stared at his knees. "They found us. It was like they were waiting, like they'd learned us or something. We just started running, there were too many and they got Wes and David and Nick and–"

Blaine shuddered and started rubbing his left forearm. Kurt watched him anxiously, eyed the familiar motion he'd seen so many others make over bite marks. But Blaine's arm was flawless, his entire body was free of scars.

Burt had stood up, his hand on his gun suddenly. "You were bitten," Burt said slowly.

Carole hurried forward before Kurt could do anything. "Burt, he's fine. I've scanned him for everything. If he'd been bitten three or four months ago, he'd be one of them by now."

"Blaine?" Kurt shook him a little and Blaine jumped. "Were you–" He turned Blaine's forearm over and traced his fingers over the smooth, lightly haired skin. No scars or a trace of a bite mark.

"They– please, don't hurt me," Blaine pleaded as Burt's hand clutched his gun tighter. "One of them– yeah, t- they bite me, but as soon as it broke the skin it started retching and having, like, a seizure. I don't know. They all hurried off and left it there and I found the radio tower. I passed out and it was all healed when I woke up and I don't feel any different than I did before. Please, don't–"

Burt's hand relaxed and instead grabbed Blaine's chin to scan his eyes.

But Kurt was somewhere else entirely. If Blaine had passed out after being bitten, if the bite had healed that quickly–

"Blaine," he said slowly, "how old were you when you were attacked?"

"F- fifteen?" Blaine said in surprise. "I'm– well, I think I'm sixteen now. I was nine when everything happened."

"It's been eight years since the quarantine," Kurt told him quietly. "I think you were in some sort of coma when you got into the radio tower. You're at least seventeen now."

"I'm– but how? Don't you guys check that place frequently?" Blaine's breathing started coming faster and he clutched Kurt tighter than ever.

"Today's the first time we've been down into the basement of the tower in almost two years," Kurt said. "We might never have found you if you hadn't spilled that drink on the wires."

Blaine stared from one face to the next, his breathing growing more and more shallow until Kurt pulled him into his arms and rocked him. Behind him, Kurt could hear Burt and Carole talking about running more blood tests, why Carole had set him up with Dr. Cosgrove, the base's gynecologist they'd been lucky to find, and what all of this might mean for Blaine.

After a while, Burt helped Kurt get Blaine on his feet. "You're gonna be staying with us, okay?" He looked at how tightly Blaine was gripping Kurt's arms. "I was thinking in Kurt's corner, if that's all right with you both. We're going to run some more tests another day, and you'll see Dr. Cosgrove tomorrow afternoon to get checked out." Burt cleared his throat and looked at Kurt. "Take him home, make sure he gets some sleep."

* * *

"Kurt? Oh, Uncle Kurt, little Chloe wants to see you."

The door to Kurt's corner was heaved aside as he groaned and tugged the blankets up higher. Against his chest someone shifted and Kurt's eyes snapped open. Blaine snuffled in his sleep and wiggled back against him more as Rachel stepped inside.

"Say hi, Uncle Kurt," she cooed. "Say hi, Chloe. Can you say hi for Mommy? I bet you can!"

"Rach, shut up," Kurt grumbled. He tightened his arm around Blaine's waist and buried his face in his curls. "We're sleeping."

"We?"

Kurt opened his eyes just in time to see Rachel and her youngest daughter leaning over them. She beamed at them snuggled up together.

"Oh, this must be Blaine. I'd heard he'd attached himself to you but I didn't think you'd hop into bed so soon," Rachel teased as Chloe cooed from the baby sling wrapped around Rachel. "He's very cute."

"It's not– he's only staying here temporarily," Kurt mumbled. He rolled slowly onto his back and was surprised when Blaine rolled right with him, nestling into his side and sighed contentedly. "He's scared and it's going to take a while for him to get used to this. I'm the only one he knows or trusts right now."

"He's still gorgeous," Rachel insisted as Chloe started babbling. "If I wasn't already married to Finn–"

"Blaine is definitely_ not_ your type," Kurt said. He yawned and rubbed Blaine's back. "Hi, Chloe, how's my cutest niece?"

"KuKu!"

Kurt smiled and let her tug at his free hand for a while. "Are Star and Miranda still sleeping?"

"Lessons," Rachel said. "Not that there's much to do with that anymore. I wish they had other kids to play with."

"Yeah," Kurt said, his eyes falling on Blaine. Of the seventy four people in their base, Rachel was the only female young enough to conceive and willing to and after the complications of her last pregnancy, none of them were eager for her to try again. Santana was the only other person young enough, but she didn't want children. "I'm sure we'll find more someday."

"I really doubt it at this point," Rachel said sadly. "He's the first we've found in two years, and most of them before that ended up being infected. Bringing them down here is the reason we don't have any kids or women our age."

It was true, of course. One of the first they'd found when they'd started journeying back up to the surface had been an infected man who'd given it to the few women that hadn't reached menopause yet. After that there'd been Rachel, Santana, and Melody, who was too old now.

"There might be more soon," Kurt repeated, eyes still on Blaine. He ran his fingers through the man's curls and massaged his scalp. "If– you have to keep this absolutely secret, all right? Like, I'll drag you up to the surface and leave you there for them if you don't."

Rachel stared at him in surprise and sat on the mat beside him. "What do you mean? Is Blaine from another base or colony? Are we going to find them?"

"No. I mean, yeah, he was, but they're all gone by the sounds of it," Kurt said. "I mean, Blaine. His anatomy, it's, well, it's not like mine. He might be able to have children."

"Get out," Rachel said with a short laugh. "That's ridiculous. He's a boy. Look at his chest and his face! He's got facial hair starting to come in!"

"I know what I saw and how scared he was, okay? Just forget it. He probably can't anyway."

Rachel eyed him suspiciously. "You like him, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt snapped. "He's _seventeen_."

"So? I'm thirty-four and Finn's your age," Rachel argued. "We work just fine."

Chloe started fussing and Rachel stood up and started rocking her. "Oh, you need a change, don't you, sweetie? I'll see you for second meal. Sleep well with your cutie."

"He is not my–" But Kurt didn't get to finish before she tugged his door shut.

* * *

Blaine checked out fine with Dr. Cosgrove, but he was still agitated around anyone unfamiliar. Kurt didn't blame him. Everyone wanted to hear his story and learn about what living on the surface had been like and Blaine wanted nothing more than to forget it.

Slowly though, Blaine started eating more, sleeping more soundly, and gradually opening up and talking with a few of Kurt's friends. Of the group the one he seemed most comfortable with was Elliot and Kurt was annoyed by it. Elliot was one of his best friends, a good friend he'd made just before the infection had spread and now he was getting friendly with Blaine. It shouldn't have bugged him, they were both his friends, but it did. Blaine was smiling and laughing and talking animatedly with the other man and it wasn't right at all.

"Bud, you look like you're trying to burn him with your stare."

"Huh?" Kurt looked away from the other end of their table and found his dad smiling knowingly. "Sorry?"

"Even if Elliot's interested, I don't see any reason for you to be worried," Burt added as Carole laughed at his side.

"Interested? Why would– you think he's interested in Blaine?" Kurt glared back down the table. If he stared long and hard enough he'd burn a hole right through his best friend's head.

"No, I don't," Burt told him. "He's as friendly as he is with everyone else and you are jealous because Blaine is finally opening up to someone who isn't you."

"I am not. That's ridiculous," Kurt said fiercely. He turned his glare of his dad and Carole instead. "Why would I be jealous of Blaine talking to another guy?"

"Why don't you answer that one yourself?" Carole suggested. She finished her plate and stood up with Burt. "We'll see you back at home."

"Yeah, right," Kurt grumbled as they hurried away chuckling. He stared moodily down the table as Blaine laughed at something Elliot was saying. "He isn't even that funny. It's probably that stupid Madonna joke. That one's so corny."

"KuKu!"

Kurt looked over his shoulder as a little fist tugged on his shirt tail. "Hi, sweetie, did you run away from your silly mommy?" Chloe squealed happily as he scooped her up and set her in his lap. "Do you want pasta? It's kind of rubbery tonight I'm afraid."

Chloe started messily playing with what remained of his dinner as Kurt looked back down the table. But Elliot and Blaine were gone and his stomach dropped. They'd start dating soon, then have a cute little baby like Chloe, then a few more that would marry Rachel's kids and Kurt would sit around with his dad and Carole forever.

"Gosh, she gets cuter every day."

Blaine had taken the empty seat beside him and the warm relief that rushed through Kurt scared him.

"Can I hold her?"

"Sure, yeah, she likes you," Kurt said as Chloe started grabbing for Blaine's hair. The other man laughed as she settled in his lap and for a moment Kurt forgot to breathe. This was it. Everything aching and burning inside of him, a glimpse of something he dreaded and wanted, too. Chloe clapped her hands and smiled up at Blaine.

"You two look good together," Kurt said quietly.

"Did you hear that, Chloe? Uncle KuKu thinks we're cute."

"You are," Kurt found himself saying. "The cutest."

"Aw, KuKu thinks you're the cutest little–"

"I wasn't talking about her," Kurt said. He looked away as Blaine looked towards him. "Um, I should find Rachel and get her daughter back to her. I'll see you back at home."

"Kurt–"

But he was already hustling away, down the long steaming corridor back to the quarters he shared with his dad, Carole, Rachel's dads, Rachel, Finn, and his nieces. _And Blaine_, _don't forget about him._

Kurt cursed himself as he pried the door open and stepped into the makeshift living area. It wasn't very large, just a space for an old couch and room for their clothes and books and other belongings. Finn was already there with Star and Miranda. So were his dad and Carole who gave him that stupid knowing smile again.

"Shut up," he snapped at their happy faces.

"Figured it out, have you? I told you it'd take him a while," Finn said. "Who bet on three months?"

"Me," Carole beamed. "You get my mess hall shifts next week. I don't care how you split them up. Thanks Kurt!"

"You guys _bet_ on me realizing I was– that I'm–"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Kurt spun around and found Blaine, Rachel, and Chloe watching all of them. Chloe reached towards Kurt as the other two girls squealed and went to greet their mother.

"It's nothing," Kurt said quickly as Blaine joined them in the living area. "They're just t- trading shifts next week."

Blaine looked up at him from the couch, his gaze suspicious and swift. If there was one thing he'd learned quickly it was that it was nearly impossible to lie to Blaine, especially when they were still sharing a bed.

"You look funny. Are you feeling all right?"

"I think I just need some sleep," Kurt invented as he back-pedaled towards the door to his – their – room. "Night."

He flung himself inside and pulled the door shut. He couldn't be in love with Blaine. So what if he accidentally woke them both up in the middle of the night with a boner? Or that Blaine woke him up every now and then humping his thigh? They were lonely and young and horny and it was natural when they were so comfortable with each other. It didn't have to mean anything, but–

The door slid open and then shut behind Kurt.

"You want to tell me what's really going on?" Blaine asked from behind him. "You've been really tense all week."

"It's nothing, I've just been thinking too much," Kurt mumbled. He unhooked his belt and slapped it against the mattress on the floor. "Go hang out, okay? I'm just going to get some sleep."

"No, I think you need me more than they do," Blaine said instead. Then his arms, trembling and awkward, settled around Kurt's waist and his chin pressed into Kurt's shoulder. "I love how safe I feel in here with you."

"Even when my boner is jammed against your belly?" Kurt said bitterly. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but Blaine only laughed quietly.

"I don't mind that," Blaine whispered. "I, um, kind of enjoy it sometimes."

"You– seriously?"

"I'm seventeen and you're gorgeous, Kurt. Who wouldn't enjoy that?" Blaine countered. He pulled away and Kurt saw that he was blushing deeply. "Look, I like you. A lot, I do. I feel safe with you. Sometimes I really want to–" Blaine paused and shook his head a little bit. "I see you with Miranda and Star and Chloe and I keep wanting that for us some day. And I know that's ridiculous and we barely know each other and that having children is an insane risk now and– If I ever decide to, I just hope I can share that with you."

"Me? But I thought you and Elliot–"

Blaine started laughing so hard he had to sit down on the bed. After a moment, Kurt joined him, his own face starting to burn.

"God, no. Elliot's great, but he's only a good friend. Like you two are," Blaine told him. He took Kurt's hand and squeezed it. "You're the one I trust and want more with. It's been you since you found me."

"They all made bets on us, you know," Kurt said. "Carole won." He cleared his throat and met Blaine's eyes. "So, do you want to go on a date sometime? I mean, that's how I did this last time, but that was before all of this."

"Yeah, okay," Blaine agreed. "I've never been on a date. Or kissed anyone or done anything. There wasn't really any time for that above ground."

"I'll, um, we can go," Kurt paused and frowned. There weren't many options for a date down here. "We could sit in tomorrow evening and read one of our books together. There isn't really a lot of options down here."

"Or we could hang out in here and I could sit o- on your face," Blaine stammered quickly. He ducked his head as Kurt gapped at his daring. "Books are fine, too."

"I think I like your option better," Kurt breathed. "That's so much better than you humping me awake every night and not being able to– yeah, let's do that instead."


End file.
